


Call It Magic

by SimpforOikawa13



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged Up, All the ships are here if you squint, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst, Blood, Character Death, Curses, Death, Everyone eats tonight, Fantasy, Fantasy AU, Fluff, Fluffy, Friends to Lovers, Fukurodani - Freeform, Getting Together, Haikyuu Fantasy AU, Hurt/Comfort, I can't leave anyone out :(, Iwaizumi - Freeform, Karasuno, M/M, Mages, Magic, Magic AU, Medieval, Mild Language, Multishippers come get ya'll juice, Nekoma, No Smut, OOC, Oikawa - Freeform, Prince Oikawa, Royalty, Royalty AU, Seijoh - Freeform, Slow Burn, Violence, angsty, aoba johsai, battles, enemies to lovers if you squint, haikyuu au, iwaoi - Freeform, kinda slow burn, minor gore, oiiwa - Freeform, royal au, sorcery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:28:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 55,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26041177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimpforOikawa13/pseuds/SimpforOikawa13
Summary: “There is no magic in the world that can break that curse… the witch made sure of that,” His father was wearing a nearly inhuman grin, stretching over his face as he spoke again. “Why waste away searching for a miracle worker?” Oikawa watched as his father motioned the servants back into the room. “Get some rest,” he said, feigning concern for the boy. The servants rushed forward, watching the tears fall down the prince’s face as his father left the room.***Oikawa is a cursed prince searching desperately for a cure. On his journey, he meets a peculiar man named Iwaizumi with secrets of his own. Together, they uncover each other’s stories and begin a journey of their own.
Relationships: Bokuto Koutarou/Akaashi Keiji (Implied), Iwaizumi Hajime & Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kuroo Tetsurou/Kozume Kenma (implied), Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru (implied), Sugawara Koushi/Sawamura Daichi (Implied)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 142





	1. Prologue - The Curse

The smell of smoke and burnt flesh hung in the air. All around them were bloodstained bodies, strewn about the narrow street haphazardly. The slicing sound of swords rang throughout the village along with the screams of their victims. The soldiers that weren’t carrying blades had torches. They walked through the streets, setting fire to the huts and cabins, burning them to the ground.

The sound of hooves on the dirt made the soldiers turn away from the carnage. Riding into town was the King of Seijoh, looking regal as ever on his beautiful, white horse. He surveyed what was left of the village, smiling at the wreckage. This village had been resisting his expansion campaign and he was glad to see it fall. He rode slowly through the streets, feeling the heat radiating through the air and watching the ash fall to the ground. He reached the town square, lined with the bodies of the dead. His soldiers, recognizing that they were in the presence of their king, ceased momentarily to bow to his grace.

“You’ve made considerable progress,” he said, smiling at the soldiers who were grinning at the praise. “I trust that with everyone dead, the rebellion was put to an end,” the king joked cruelly.

He continued to congratulate the men on a job well done when an old woman appeared from a burning building, coughing the smoke from her lungs. The soldiers stood there, confused as to how they had managed to leave anyone alive. They raised their swords, preparing to charge when the woman raised her hands as if pleading for them to wait. The soldiers turned to the king, wondering who they should obey. The king raised his hand, putting the soldiers at ease. They turned back to the woman who was bent over in an attempt to regain her breath.

“Your majesty,” she gasped. “Stop this madness!” She looked at him with pained eyes, full of sorrow as she glanced at the raging inferno that was her village. The king sat upon his horse, narrowing his eyes at the woman questioningly.

“Why should I?" he began. "This pathetic excuse for a village was rebelling against my great kingdom. You expect me to be merciful to criminals? Do you expect me to fail my kingdom?” he asked, staring at her tattered robes.

“We are of your kingdom!” she shouted. “You have already failed us! You treat us like the very dirt you walk on and become surprised when we rebel against such tyranny.”

“Tyranny!” the king laughed. “You know nothing of tyranny! Other kings enslave their citizens, starving them, stealing their children. You should be thankful that my heart is so filled with kindness that-”

“You have nothing but greed in your heart,” the woman spat. “You would burn the whole of the earth for another crown.” The woman’s eyes darkened, burning within them was a rage hotter than the violent blaze around her. “You would watch us die, you would let us _burn_...” Her fingers twitched at her sides, the fire around the square growing larger, the flames turning blue. “For your selfish desires!”

She raised her hands, lifting them from her sides. The ground began to rumble, shaking men from their horses and trees from their roots. The soldiers abandoned the square, running in swathes to the forest. The king's white horse spooked, throwing him to the ground. From the dirt, he looked up at the woman, who stood in the middle of the flaming street. She stood untouched, surrounded by a soft glow. 

The light illuminated the insignia on her robes: the mage’s guild. The color drained from the king’s face as he recalled the immense power of the mages. He watched in horror as the trees fell into the remains of the small village, vines snaking over the flaming ruins. The grass grew tall and new branches curled out, seeming to form a cage around the village, almost protecting it. And at the center of it all, the woman stood, lifting her arms and twisting her hands, conducting the chaos. The terrified king tried to scramble to his feet but before he could, strands of ivy wrapped around him, tying him to the ground. The woman strode over to him, shaking the earth with every step. The king squirmed, trying to free himself, but to no avail. The woman raised her hands, willing the plants to lift the king up so that the woman was looking into his eyes.

“You are pathetic and weak,” she hissed, staring into his eyes. “Compared to this,” she waved her hands, shaking the entire forest with her. “You are nothing compared to this!” She motioned at the forest, completely bent to her will. "You are a small man with small goals; you care nothing of your people!" she yelled. “The darkness of your heart blinds you to the destruction you cause,” she said bitterly, letting her eyes wander to the smoldering village. She watched the blood-splattered buildings crumbling to ash. She watched as the streets, where children once played and giggled, were consumed by the rumbling earth and raging fire. She felt tears pour out of her eyes as she watched her home be reduced to ashes.

“You have suffered no consequences for long enough…” she said, turning back to face the king. “You will feel the pain that you have caused unto this land!” The king looked at the woman, watching her old face contort in anger. He shuddered, his eyes wide as he watched the chaotic world around him. 

“A Curse!” she cried, meeting the king's gaze. “A curse on your firstborn that they shall bear the weight of your sins!” Overhead, thunder rumbled across the greying sky. The forest around him vibrated, almost humming in agreement with the woman's words. In an instant, a bolt of lightning struck the ground in front of him, shaking the whole forest as it cracked into the ground. The king collapsed, suddenly released from the clutches of the vines. He sucked in a shaky breath, his chest tightening in fear at her words.

“Please!” he begged, clawing at the muddy path upon which he lay. “ I beg you, take it back! I’ll give you whatever you want!” His eyes were desperate and frantic as he looked at the woman.

“I want my village back,” she said, her voice laced with a venomous tone. “I want the lives of every innocent man, woman, or child that you slaughtered!” she roared. “But,” she continued, her eyes going cold. “...you can give me none of these things.”

“Besides,” she looked at him icily. “There is no magic in the world that can take back that curse.” His face fell in unison with his heart as he stared at the ground, and when he finally looked up, the woman had gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The palace was restless. After years of trying, the queen had finally begun to give birth to the next heir... Every servant was rushing about, scrambling to aid the queen and the midwives. The king, who had been out on a hunt, was quickly informed and made for the castle at once. He arrived late in the evening, hours after the queen had started. The servants began to tell him excitedly about what had happened. 

“She’s doing well, your majesty!” one quipped while untacking his horse, putting way the saddle.

“The midwives say you’ll have an heir by morning!” the servant laughed giddily, walking away from the king. The king, not wanting to disturb his wife, went back to his chambers and fell soundly asleep. He awoke the next morning, immediately disregarding his breakfast and strolling to the birthing room. He was halfway down the hall when a servant stopped him, blocking him from the room. He opened his mouth to speak before he heard a painful cry rip through the air. His eyes opened wide in surprise at hearing the queen.

“The child, it’s not…”

“No, your grace, it’s taking longer than expected,” the servant replied. His eyes flitting back to the closed doors of the room that the groans were coming from. “If you return at noon, I’m sure the child will be here,” the servant reassured him. He nodded, turning and walking away from the queen’s chambers.

He returned at noon to the same news. He came back again and again, each time the servants assured him that the heir would be born in a few hours. The cycle continued for days, every trip yielding the same results. Each trip, the servants' faces grew dimmer and dimmer, their eyes nervous and fearful. The king went back to his chambers on the third day, sitting alone in his bed. He was fighting to go to sleep when a scream echoed around the castle.

He threw back the covers and raced down the halls of the grand palace. The servants made no move to stop him as he opened the doors to the queen’s chambers. Inside were the nurses and midwives bundling a small child in their arms. The king felt a smile come to his face as he watched them hand the baby to its mother, who was breathing heavily on the bed. She smiled weakly, sweat plastering her brown hair to her face.

The king pushed past the servants and nurses to be at her side, noticing the blood all over the sheets. He watched her cradle the child, pressing its head gently to her breast.

“Your son, your grace,” the queen said, lifting the child to the king’s arms. Her arms fell weakly away, sliding off the bed where she lay. The king held the child, looking at his soft brown hair, the same dark color of his mother’s. He was perfect and strong; a capable heir.

The king felt servants brush past him, rushing to the side of the queen whose breathing had gone shallow and rapid. Her lips trying to suck in air desperately, her eyes shut tightly in pain. The king pushed the child into the arms of one of the midwives. He made his way to his wife, who was barely clinging to the last strings of life.

“Promise me,” she started, the words breaking off as her face contorted in agony. “Promise me that you will care for him, that you’ll keep him safe.” The king nodded in reply, grabbing at the queen’s hand in a futile attempt to comfort her. He felt her hand slip away, hanging limply. He watched in horror as her breathing slowed, eventually coming to a stop as the servants and nurses fruitlessly tried to revive her. The king turned his attention to the child who was crying loudly as if he understood what had happened. Seemingly crying out for his mother who had passed just moments earlier.

The palace was quiet for many weeks, no one daring to speak of the tragedy that had just unfolded. Black banners were draped across the walls and dark curtains covered the windows. The king tried to visit the nursery but found that he couldn’t bear to look at his son. He was the spitting image of his mother. They shared the same fair skin, brown hair, and dark eyes. Each glance struck anger and hurt into his heart, so much so that he stopped visiting the child, leaving its care to the servants.

In the nursery, the young prince was doted on by every servant and member of the court. The nurses paid him visits as did the mages, who placed protections and wards on him. One day, as the court mages were placing protections on the child, one of the mages noticed that something was amiss. The spell had failed to take effect, leaving the prince at risk. They tried again and again, each time the spell failed as if another force was working against it. 

The mages slowly began to connect the dots. _Was it possible that the child had already been attacked!? He was only days old… it wasn’t possible!_ They tried every spell and charm on the child, only to find that no spell would stick. Nervous and worried, the mages informed the king, who had been spending most of his days alone in his chambers.

“My liege, we fear for the boy’s safety,” one explained, telling the king of the odd magic that seemed to surround the baby. The king’s body tensed at hearing the news, suddenly remembering the night so many years ago. He shuddered when he recalled the witch’s words: _A curse on your firstborn that they shall bear the weight of your sins!_

The mage glanced nervously at the king. “Your majesty, we have reason to believe that the child is…” he hesitated, “...cursed.” The king gripped his chair tightly, feeling the rage flow through him as he realized the witch’s magic. Not only had she cursed his firstborn to die, but his wife as well, so that his soon-to-be-dead heir would be his only one.

“You must try!” the king said, feigning concern for the prince. “You will continue to try until he breathes his last, do you understand!?” The mages nodded and quickly walked out of the room. The king turned his back to the door, staring out the window and contemplating. _Until he breathes his last_ … the king silently hoped that such a breath would come soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As months went on, the king decreed that the finest nobles should each send forth a girl for him to choose to be his next wife. After understanding the witch’s curse, he accepted the fate of his son, deciding to simply have more heirs. The nobles were of course shocked at the king’s callous attitude. The queen had not been dead a year and the king had already seemed to have moved on. But the king paid no mind to the opinions of the nobles or his court. He had one goal, and nothing would stop him from achieving it.

Soon after the decree, the young women arrived, each wearing their house colors in garish, flamboyant dresses. They spoke politely and walked straight, trying to prove themselves worthy of the king’s love and affection. Weeks passed and girls left. Eventually, after about a month of the pageantry, the king decided on a new queen. She was a pretty, refined girl. Her eyes were a stunning blue, complimenting the jet-black hair that draped elegantly over her shoulders. 

Within days, the two were married. It was a grand affair with music and food and dancing. The servants were thrilled for the change of depressing scenery around the castle as it was made into a beautiful home for the newlyweds. As the time approached the early morning, the king and his new queen retired to their chambers.

The girl stared at the mirror as she took off an expensive diamond necklace that she had worn to the wedding. She felt the king come up behind her, slowly tugging at the ribbons of her corset. She tried to relax, letting herself become the dutiful, quiet queen she was expected to be. But at the back of her mind lay a burning question. She turned and pressed a hand to the king’s chest, stopping his hands briefly.

“I have had one thing on my mind since the day I arrived here,” she said quietly, looking into the king’s dark eyes. The king stared back, his brows rising in a questioning manner. “The servants tell me that you have a son.” The king’s hand froze at the woman’s waist, gripping the fabric of her dress tighter. “I have never seen him,” she paused, reading his face. “Is there a reason?”

The king’s gaze grew cold. “I do not care to see him and there is no reason for you to either.” Her mouth parted in surprise, her eyes watering slightly.

“Do you not visit him?” she asked worriedly. “If he were do get sick or-”

“That firstborn child of mine killed my wife,” the king spat, interrupting her. “Do you really think I care whether or not it lives or dies?” He looked at the girl, whose eyes had widened in shock. The king smiled at her expression.

“Do not worry if he dies,” said the king, grabbing the girl's dress. “You shall give me plenty of heirs to fill his place.” She gasped as he began to undress her, leading her over the large bed that lay in the center of the room. She felt tears form in her eyes as she envisioned the child, alone in his crib. And across the castle, the boy whimpered in his bed, cold and alone and scared with no one to comfort him. 


	2. The Prince

Oikawa loved how huge the palace was. He loved all of the twisting paths and tiered gardens. He could never get enough of the way that the corridors and courtyards connected, forming a masterful maze; a maze he prided himself on knowing inside and out. He strode out into another courtyard, this one a garden full of beautiful, pale purple flowers. He leaned down to sniff them before looking up to the sky, roughly judging the time. It was almost noon and he had promised the squires that he would spar with them today. They’d kill him if he was late. 

He smiled and sat down on a bench, taking in the warmth of the sun and the aroma of the sweet flowers of the garden. He looked over his shoulder to a small pond in which dozens of multicolored fish swam around. He racked his brain, trying to remember the name of the fish. _Koi!_ He thought suddenly. He smiled softly, remembering how his tutors said that they were his mother’s favorite. This garden used to be hers, a gift from his father when she arrived here for the first time. He traced his fingers along the smooth stone of the bench he was sitting on, wondering what she was like. All of the servants said that he looked just like her.

He stood after a moment, heading towards the arched gateway to the garden. He turned, navigating the halls to find his way to the barracks. He could hear the clanging of metal and shouts of the knights as he drew closer, the sight of the training grounds slowly coming into view. He watched for a moment as one of the older knights corrected a squire's stance, taking the time to realign his grip on the sword. He grinned as he recalled the first time he picked up a sword. _How heavy it was!_

“Oi, you were almost late,” he heard a voice say to him from behind. He turned to find one of the knights handing him a sword. The knight had messy black hair and was smirking at the slight alarm on Oikawa’s face after being startled by the sudden touch.

“Whatever,” he said, pushing past the knight. “Where’s my armor, Kuroo?” he asked the Knight. Kuroo laughed at Oikawa’s pouty face and led him over to the supplies. He helped Oikawa into the light, leather armor that the knights used to train in.

“Who am I sparring today?” the prince asked, tying a few straps into place.

“A newbie, his name’s Kyoutani,” Kuroo replied, pointing towards a boy with close-shaved blond hair. Oikawa nodded, tightening the last few straps on his armor before going to find a sword.

“He’s pretty wild, very strong, but easily tricked,” Kuroo added. Oikawa rummaged through the swords, finding one that had the right weight and length. He watched as Kuroo walked over to where the other boy was standing, telling him to suit up and prepare for the sparring session. Oikawa made his way to the center of the training grounds, twirling his sword as he went. His movements were smooth and polished. He had been taught to fight as a child, even though the court didn’t usually allow princes to fight. Oikawa had insisted on learning, wanting to prove to his father that he was strong enough. He had always been lanky and lean, and no one ever expected him to be able to lift a sword off the ground. So when he won his first match against one of the knights at 14, the whole palace was a stir. Four years later, and he was one of the most-skilled swordsmen the kingdom had ever seen. 

He raised his head to see the other boy make his way over to the grounds, preparing for the fight. Oikawa noticed his steps, they were confident but unbalanced. It would be easy for him to get knocked off his feet. The other boy noticed Oikawa’s staring and scowled. Oikawa fought back a laugh and glanced at the small crowd that was forming around the grounds.

“Let’s get this started!” whooped a loud voice. A large, black-and-white-haired knight made his way onto the grounds. The other knights smiled, slightly embarrassed by Bokuto’s antics. Oikawa just rolled his eyes in amusement, tightening his grip on his sword.

“Best of three…” the owlish knight paused. “Three… two… one… GO!” he yelled. The blond-boy immediately started to charge at Oikawa, his sword at his side, ready to wind up. Oikawa noticed an unbalanced pattern in his running and feigned left, forcing the boy to change direction. Before the boy got close enough to draw his sword, Oikawa ducked down low and kicked the other legs out, sending him toppling down to the ground. The prince stood quickly and pointed his sword, touching it lightly to the other’s chest.

“One for me,” he said, smiling down at the boy. Some of the other knights laughed, amazed at how Oikawa didn’t even need his sword to knock the other flat on his ass. Oikawa helped the boy up and walked back to his starting position. He took his stance and waited for Bokuto’s count. The other boy did the same, brushing off dirt as he took his position.

“One point Oikawa!” Bokuto shouted. The other knights cheered alongside him, marveling at the prince’s technique. “Alright, three… two… one… GO!” Bokuto yelled once more.

The boy moved first again this time, but now in a slow jog, not a flat sprint as he had before. Oikawa held his stance for a second and then ran to meet the other, keeping his sword low. Their swords met before they did, clashing loudly as they did so. Oikawa twisted his blade, using the flat side to gain more leverage and push the other’s blade out of the way. The boy stumbled back, but regained his balance quickly, fearing another attack from the prince.

He swung his sword out again, taking the offensive while Oikawa braced his sword against his, repelling the attack. He moved his blade, swinging both of their swords down and away from his chest. The other growled and lunged forward again, trying to cut at Oikawa’s side. But the prince was too quick, meeting the other’s blade, and pushing it away once more. He watched the boy’s face twist, his eyebrow twisting in frustration. Irritated, the boy stabbed carelessly at Oikawa losing his patience and finesse: exactly what Oikawa wanted. Oikawa stepped away dodging the attack before twisting his sword around the others, twirling his own in a loop to wrench the blade away from the other. The sword flew out of the boy’s grip and clattered to the ground. He turned back to Oikawa, meeting a sword at his chest plate.

“YEAH OIKAWA!!” yelled Kuroo and Bokuto along with some other knights. Oikawa smiled and went to loosen the straps of his armor when he heard the other boy speak. 

“Five,” he said. Oikawa was confused and looked at the boy with a quirked eyebrow.

“Best of five?” the boy challenged, wanting to keep fighting. There were murmurs and whispers in the crowd, but Oikawa waved his hand, dismissing them.

“Why not?” he replied, re-tightening his straps. The other smiled, and took his starting position again, waiting for Oikawa to do the same. When they had both taken their stances, they listened to Bokuto’s countdown, waiting for the ‘GO!’. As soon as he heard it, Oikawa raced towards the other, whose eyes flashed with a look of surprise, not expecting the prince to attack first. He barely reacted quick enough to dodge Oikawa’s blade and spun back to face him. Oikawa couldn’t help but smile as he lunged forward, again and again, spinning and pivoting as he did so. He did it with such confidence and grace that he appeared to be dancing, mesmerizing the crowd as he waltzed across the dirt. 

He was thinking about his next move when a sudden, sharp pain struck his hand. He yelped and dropped his sword, stumbling back. The pain was burning as if someone had poured molten metal on his hand. Before he registered what was happening, the pain spread up his arm, feeling as if his very blood had caught fire. He screamed in pain, writhing on the ground in agony. The horrified crowd began to gasp and cry out, seeing their beloved prince collapse so suddenly. He felt a hand try to steady him on the ground, the other boy who he had been fighting just moments earlier was beside him, screaming something to the servants. 

The pain was intense and unbearable. He screamed again, giving one last cry before the world went black. He awoke in his bed, still feeling a sharp, burning sensation on his palm. He gasped in pain slightly, alerting one of the servants to come and dab water at his face, wiping away the sweat from his forehead.

“The healers are coming, your majesty, just a little longer,” the girl said to him. Her worried eyes betrayed her calm voice and did little to soothe the discomfort that he felt. Soon enough though, the healers did arrive and immediately began to inspect and treat the wound. Oikawa looked down to the hand they were treating and saw that part of it was blackened, looking burnt. 

“This wound is abnormal,” he heard one healer whisper. 

“We should consult the mages,” another added. Oikawa watched as they called for a messenger, requesting the court’s mages to examine the wound. He listened to them chatter anxiously about the state of his hand. He tried to curl it for a second, testing its strength. He winced feeling the pain flare up again.

It wasn’t long before the mages arrived, clothed in their ornate, blue robes. They knelt to where the prince lay and began to check the damaged area. They prodded and poked, gauging Oikawa’s reaction. Others produced amulets and herbs from the folds and pouches of their robes.

“Oh no,” said one of them quietly, nearly gasping as they said it. It was so quiet that it seemed that they didn’t want the prince to hear. Oikawa felt dread snake its way through his body, twisting in all the wrong places.

“You don’t think…” Another added, trailing off as he met the grim eyes of another mage.

“It has to be, that’s the only explanation.”

Oikawa listened to their whispers, which were getting progressively more serious in tone. He waited until he could no longer fight the fear that was churning in his stomach.“What’s wrong with me?” he asked weakly. The mages turned to the prince, each of their faces aghast. They were all silent for a moment, choosing their words carefully.

“Your majesty,” one began. “This isn’t the type of spell that we normally work with; it-it’s dark and destructive,” he gulped. The man seemed to try to conceal his anxiety but was failing miserably. Oikawa felt his stomach drop as he heard the next words come out of the man’s mouth.“We have reason to believe that you have been cursed.” Oikawa’s breath seemed to get punched out of his lungs. A few seconds passed as the prince tried to regain his composure.

“You- you can fix it though?” Oikawa asked, scanning the dismayed faces of the mages.

“My prince, this magic is old and dark, I- we’ve never seen anything like it,” replied the man. Oikawa felt his throat tighten at the words.

“What’s it mean, will I-” he choked. _He wouldn’t die, would he?_ Surely the mages could find a solution, they always did. He looked at the mages once more, trying to draw and answer from them. They stayed silent instead, unsure of what was to come.

“Leave me,” he said, struggling to keep it together. His hands shook as he gripped the covers, trying to steady himself. The mages stood, looking mournfully at the prince. They left, leaving the prince alone with the servants. He looked at the patch of burnt flesh on his hand, fearful of its magic that the mages were so fearful of. The servants came forward to wrap it, trying in vain to comfort him. He smiled at them, thanking them silently for trying so hard, even if it was all for naught. 

Oikawa heard quick, clunky footsteps coming towards the room and a few moments later, a tall black-haired knight appeared in the doorway. It was Kuroo, and following closely behind him was Bokuto. Their faces had concern written all over them as they entered the room, pushing past the servants that tried to block their path.

“Oikawa!”, they called, rushing forward and looking at the wounded prince. 

“They told us nothing,” said Bokuto breathlessly. “Are you okay?” he asked. Oikawa turned to look at Kuroo, who wore the same confused expression as the other. He grimaced as he reached for his hand. He began to peel back some of the bandages, showing the darkened skin of his palm. The knights looked, eyes widening in shock at the severity of the wound. 

“You were burned,” said Kuroo. “But,” he paused, thinking. “It was just a swordfight, when would you have-”

“Magic,” Oikawa answered, re-wrapping the cloth around his hand.

“Magic?” said Bokuto questioningly. “Are you suggesting…?” he trailed off, uncertain of his next words. 

Oikawa realized what he was implying. “No, No! The magic wasn’t the squire’s doing.” He might have been aggressive, even a little mean during the fight, but he never meant to injure the prince. He even helped him when he had fallen during the match. The boy had done nothing wrong, and to be accused of using magic in such a way could prove fatal.

“Then who else could have?” Kuroo asked. “It was only the two of you and the rest of us were just watching.”

Oikawa dismissed Kuroo’s comment. “It’s impossible, the mages say that the magic was ancient, long before our time,” Oikawa explained. He watched the knights’ faces fall, unsure of what to say or do to help their prince, their friend.

“Ancient indeed” a voice from the threshold muttered. The knights wheeled around, bowing at once to the king who stood tall and mighty in the doorway. 

“Your majesty, we-”

“Knights are not to be in the prince’s chambers,” the king said, watching the knights’ expressions turn fearful. “And yet…” he continued, dragging out the words. “Here you are, disobeying me.” His eyes were icy as he stared down the two boys. 

“We- we came to see the prince-” Bokuto sputtered out, trying to explain.

“Your reasons do not interest me,” the king said coldly. The knights had only ever heard stories of his majesty, never before had they met the king in person. His mere presence was enough to make them shake in fear. Watching the scene unfold, Oikawa butted in, trying to save his friends

“Father, they came to see me,” Oikawa said. “They were only trying to help.” The king looked over to where his son lay in the bed. His eyes dragged over the fearful forms of the knights before he raised his hand and motioned for the knights to move.

“Leave.” The knights scrambled out of the room, Bokuto stealing one last glance of the broken prince before running back to the barracks. The king motioned towards the servants, pointing them to the door causing them to leave the prince and his father alone. He strode over to where Oikawa lay, unwrapping his hand and examining the burnt skin. Oikawa winced in pain, stifling a groan. His father’s hands were rough and uncaring.

“The mages tell me you’ve been cursed, something old and dark,” The king remarked, releasing his son’s hand and walking away from the bed. “It’s troubling…” said the king. “You see, they tell me that this magic is beyond their knowledge, beyond their control.” He turned his face so that Oikawa couldn’t see the small grin make its way onto his face.

“They only know so much,” Oikawa said, challenging his father. “There are bound to be more mages we can consult.” He looked at his father, whose back was facing the prince as he stared out a window. Oikawa felt that twinge of worry in his gut again, telling him that something was wrong.

“Do you know why those mages are here in this court?” the king asked, not waiting for a reply. “They are here to serve us because they are the best in the land. If they can’t heal you then…” the king turned back to the prince, watching as his words sunk in. Oikawa felt his throat go dry, _There had to be another way!_ He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, the king began.

He recalled the words of the witch all those years ago. “There is no magic in the world that can break that curse…” he muttered, looking at his son’s confused face. The king stood, watching as the boy’s brown eyes, the same as his mother’s, shifted into despair. 

“What- What do you mean?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion. “What are you talking about?” he demanded, desperate for this to be some horrific nightmare that he’d wake up from at any second.

The king sighed. “You were cursed before you were even brought into this world,” he began, watching as Oikawa listened to him intently. The king bit back a cruel smile, finding it humorous that the boy could be so optimistic. 

“You already know of my conquests, don’t you?” Oikawa nodded in response, recalling his lessons with the scholars. “My last battle was an easy victory. We raided and burned a small village in a forest clearing. You see, they had been harboring traitors and had resisted our efforts,” he paused. “We left no one alive.” The prince was horrified: the scholars had never told him of such a battle. He watched, terrified as his father’s face stayed cool, seemingly unaffected by the atrocities he had just admitted to. “At least, we thought we’d left no one alive…” the king continued.

“A woman appeared from a burning hut, begging us to stop. When we refused, she bent the very forest against us. She placed a curse on you that night, saying that you, my firstborn,” he looked at Oikawa’s alarmed eyes. “...Should pay for my sins.” 

The prince gulped, watching his father draw closer. “I knew that, naturally, at some point, it would kill you.” he smiled at Oikawa. “Though I never knew when.” Oikawa was confused, not understanding the oddly happy tone of his father’s voice. The worry in his gut twisted violently, becoming almost as painful as the burn. 

“The night you were born, after you ripped open my wife,” he spat. “I prayed to every single god that it would kill you young, suffocating you in your crib.” Oikawa was stunned, tears forming in his eyes at his father’s words. “However,” he continued. “If you were to die, I would have had no heir.” He ran his fingers over the post of the prince’s bed before grinning cruelly at the boy. “We couldn’t have that, now could we?”

Oikawa watched as the king paced about his room. “I remarried, as you know,” the king went on. “And now I have plenty of heirs from which to choose.” Oikawa grabbed at the sheets, trying to distract himself from the pain of both his hand and his father’s words. He was useless, and had always been; his own father had wished for his death since the day he was born. He was never destined to be the king, he was fated to die because of his father’s mistakes.

“It's not fair!” he growled, his eyebrows furrowing together. _How had he never known? Why couldn’t the curse have taken him as a child, at least then it would spare him the suffering he felt now_. Knowing that he would slowly wither away until he finally died; it was almost too painful to bear. He felt his breathing come short and his hands start to tremble. He was losing it.

“Few things ever are in this world,” replied the king. “It would do you good to know that, even if it's the last thing you do.” The last words struck ice into Oikawa’s heart. His father, the very man who raised him, resented him enough to wish death upon him. He tried to shake away the awful feeling creeping into his chest. He looked back at the wound on his hand, bloody and blackened. _No, he wouldn’t give up this easily. There had to be some way to fix this._

“I’ll find someone,” he said, his voice choking with emotion. “There’s got to be someone who can help me-”

“The healers tell me that the wound had spread somewhat, that’s rather quick isn’t it?” the king added, cutting off his son. Oikawa looked at it, the burn covered most of his palm. _Had it really expanded that much?_ “With it spreading so fast, who knows how much time you’ll have left? Oikawa felt a tear slip out of his eye, rolling down his cheek. His father had given up on him, not just now, but from the beginning. He was a lost cause, doomed to die for someone else’s sins.

“There is no magic in the world that can break that curse… the witch made sure of that,” His father was wearing a nearly inhuman grin, stretching over his face as he spoke again. “Why waste away searching for a miracle worker?”Oikawa watched as his father motioned the servants back into the room. “Get some rest,” he said, feigning concern for the boy. The servants rushed forward, watching the tears fall down the prince’s face as his father left the room. 

“Your grace, are you alright?” one of the girls asked, worried.

“It’s my hand,” he lied. No, the burn would never hurt as much as this, nothing ever would. The girl rushed to get fresh bandages along with an infusion for the pain. He watched her work in silence, thinking about the look of genuine concern on her face. He bit back a bitter laugh, finding it comical that a servant girl, someone who barely knew him, cared more for him than his own father.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few days had passed since the incident. Rumors had spread throughout the palace, telling tales of the prince’s strange affliction. Oikawa had gotten the mark re-wrapped every day, trying in vain to stop the pain. He spent his time wandering the palace ground, his mind lost in thought.

The palace was peaceful and serene, starkly contrasting the prince’s current situation. He found it peculiar how the world could be so indifferent to suffering. The plants continued to grow, the sun still rose, the moon changed its shape. He realized how small he was, in comparison to the palace, to the kingdom, to the rest of the world. He had gone his whole being treated as if he was other-worldly, achieving almost divine status. And now, he saw that none of it was real. As he wandered the grounds of the castle, he found himself noticing cracks and holes in the usually-spotless white walls. Such imperfections had never been pointed out to him before. He traced the cracks of the stone, following the spidering pattern with his deft fingers. 

He sat down on the stone bench in his mother’s garden, giving his legs a rest from the incessant roaming. Oikawa picked at the stem of one of the purple-flowered plants, his mind abuzz. He would die here, treated like vermin, not a god. He would die and they would weep, pretending to miss the cursed child he was. But in an instant, he realized bitterly, he'd be forgotten. He’d be cast away like garbage, a tainted memory of his father’s. He would never feel the throne underneath him. He would never feel the weight of the crown nestled in his perfectly-swept hair. He smiled a little though, understanding that he probably wouldn’t live long enough to see any of his brothers in his rightful seat. _Small comforts._

This garden was his new favorite spot in the palace. It was close enough to the barracks for him to walk over and watch the knights training, but far enough away for the clanging of their swords to remain unheard. It was peaceful here, a place for him to sit and think, something he did a lot of these days. He felt the sun on his face as he looked up at the rising towers and corridors of the palace, seeming to rise endlessly into the sky. He looked back down when he heard steps coming towards him. A dark-haired man came and sat by the Oikawa on the bench. The man, named Daichi, was one of the head knights. He and the prince had been friends since Oikawa started training with a sword.

“You look like you need to talk,” he said, reading Oikawa’s mood perfectly. Oikawa laughed at how well Daichi had sensed his emotions.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he replied plainly. Watching as Daichi's face took on a look of disappointment.

“You’ve been withdrawn for a week, Oikawa. You aren’t talking to anyone and you’re wandering around the palace.” He looked at Oikawa, who was staring at a rosebush across the courtyard. “You know, they hate to admit it, but the knights miss your stupid little jokes and dramatic sparring sessions,” he added, smiling as he did so.

“They’d better get used to it,” Oikawa said softly, still staring at the flowers, not wanting to meet Daichi’s gaze. He could feel the other man’s eyes boring into him, an intense and confused gaze.

The man’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, watching Oikawa turn away from him. He waited for a response, but the prince said nothing. “Oikawa, what do you mean?” he asked once more.

“I’m going to be leaving soon,” he responded. _That’s a nice way to phrase death_ , he thought. How easy it would be to just leave, no pain or suffering. Wishful thinking.

“Leaving for what?” Daichi questioned. _Even if he was leaving for some trip, he’d be coming back. So why was he acting so dramatic?_ _Or rather, more dramatic than normal._ Oikawa always had flair when telling stories, so Daichi should be used to it by now. But something about his tone, the way his eyes refused to meet the knight’s; It made him nervous.

“The wound is getting worse,” he explained. Daichi was surprised; Bokuto and Kuroo had told him that it was a small burn. Oikawa peeled back the wrappings on his hand, showing Daichi the dark, twisted flesh of his palm. Daichi looked in horror at Oikawa’s hand.

“That’s not a normal burn...” he said, looking at Oikawa. He felt some awful feeling pool in his gut; something was wrong.

“It’s magic,” he said. “Something the mages can’t heal…” Daichi watched the prince wrap the bandages around his hand, tucking the cloth back into place. He felt his stomach twist, nervous at Oikawa’s dismal expression.

“Will it-”

“Kill me? Yes, eventually,” Oikawa answered, seemingly unbothered at the information. Daichi’s mouth parted, almost gasping at the comment. It was definitely not the answer he was looking for. He looked at the prince, whose once-lively face had become bleak and indifferent.

“That...” Oikawa continued. “...is why I’m leaving. I don't want to spend the rest of my time, however long it may be, in this palace.” His eyes wandered to the white stone walls surrounding the courtyard. Its walls suddenly seemed too small, too constricting. But even if the cold, white stone made him feel caged, it was the only home he’d ever known. The thought of leaving this place was painful, but staying hurt just as much. He’d be better off leaving.

“I take it you don’t plan on coming back,” said Daichi, a sorrowful tone in his voice. Oikawa, noticing the depressing mood, tried to add a bit of cheer back to the conversation.

“Who knows? I mean, maybe someone could cure me, right?” He was still hopeful to fix this curse, _there had to be something to break it._ Daichi looked at the fake smile that Oikawa had plastered on his face, seeing right through the prince’s poor attempt to conceal his emotions.

“You’ll need help,” he said calmly, sighing as he did so. Oikawa turned to look at the man, wondering what he meant.

“Help with wha-”

“You’re running away, aren’t you?” Daichi asked. Oikawa opened his mouth to protest briefly before he resigned himself to telling the truth. He nodded, confirming the knight’s suspicions. “You really think you’ll be able to get past the gates without any help?” He asked, chuckling. Oikawa’s face flushed slightly in embarrassment.

“I don’t have a plan yet,” Oikawa admitted. 

“When?” the other asked.

“As soon as possible, really…” Oikawa smiled, feeling a rush of excitement at the thought of leaving.

“How about tonight? I can get some of the other knights to help,” Daichi suggested. Oikawa was shocked, not expecting the man to be so encouraging of his plan. He imagined waking up tomorrow in a different bed, one that wasn’t lined with silken sheets. He thought of all the dangers of the cities, how easily he could be hurt or worse, recognized, and sent back to the palace. But, despite the risk, he couldn’t have been more eager. 

“I’ll have to pack,” Oikawa explained. Daichi looked up at the sky where the sun was beginning to fall past noon. 

“You’d better get started then,” pointing at the sky. He got up from the bench, smiling at Oikawa before walking out of the garden. Oikawa grinned almost mischievously, restless, and eager for the night to come.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The moon had risen high in the sky and Oikawa was still packing his belongings. He tried to choose his clothing so that he looked like a normal citizen, but being a prince and all, this proved to be rather difficult. He had spent hours trying to choose what to take in the small bag he had, and none of his clothes were very inconspicuous. In addition to the clothes, he had a small bag of money, a canteen for water. In an effort to conserve space in the bag, he decided not to bring shoes; he would instead wear his best pair of riding boots. They were of high quality and comfortable, but he had some doubts about how long they would last.

He turned back to his desk where quills and random stationery were scattered about. He caught his eye on a small leather-bound book that lay under some of the loose paper. He reached for the book, turning it over to read the gold embossing, recognizing the lettering. It was from his mother’s personal collection. She had left it to him before he was even born; apparently, it was one of her favorites. He traced his finger down the spine of the book, _how he wished he could have met her!_

Oikawa looked at his hand that held the book, seeing the ugly mark on his hand. _This won’t do_ , he thought. He would need to cover the wound or it would attract too much attention on the streets. He quickly grabbed some gloves from a drawer and covered the wound. 

A knock at the door caught his attention, and he raced to open it slowly, fearing it was a servant. He hesitantly pushed the door open to find Daichi standing there with a slightly tired expression. 

“Are you ready?” he asked. “It’s well past midnight and most of the guards are asleep, now’s the time.” Oikawa nodded in response, tying on a simple cloak and slinging the small bag over his shoulder. Daichi turned and walked down the hallway. Oikawa glanced at his room one last time, taking in the grand bookcase that covered one of the walls. He looked to the large, soft bed, frowning a little, knowing that it would be unlikely that he would ever sleep anywhere as comfy for the rest of his life. 

“Come on!” Daichi whispered harshly from the end of the hallway. Oikawa closed the door softly and began to walk down the hallway towards the knight. Together, they walked down the multiple flights of stairs connecting Oikawa’s chambers to the rest of the palace. Once at ground level, they made for the barracks, all the while creeping around quietly so as to not alert any servants. After they moved past the training grounds, they entered the stables. Quietly, Daichi helped Oikawa to tack up his horse, tightening the straps on the saddle and placing the bridle over the stallion’s head.

Oikawa was tying his bag to the saddle when he heard a crunch on the dry earth outside. His eyes widened, hearing the footsteps come closer. He didn't even have time to hide before two knights appeared in the doorway of the stables. Their silhouettes seemed familiar, one tall and lanky and the other stocky and strong.

“Daichi said you needed help…” said one of them. As they stepped into the light, Oikawa recognized the men: Kuroo and Bokuto! He smiled, happy that they had come to help him. As they shuffled forward, Oikawa noticed that each knight had a bag in his hands. They thrust out the sacks to Oikawa, who opened them a little, peeking at their contents. One bag had bread, nuts, and dried fruit inside. The other had utensils and a bowl along with a few matches. Oikawa beamed at them, thankful for their kindness, but slightly embarrassed at the same time. The fact that he’d forgotten food was just one of the many reasons he was entirely unprepared to leave the castle. 

He tied the bags to the saddle and looked back at the knights, who stood in silence. “Thank you,” he began, facing the two silent men in front of him. “Is… something wrong-” He was cut off by two strong arms wrapping roughly around his shoulders. Oikawa wrapped an arm around the black-and-white-haired boy before extending the other towards Kuroo. The man lunged forward, joining the hug, sniffling as they squeezed each other tightly. 

When they pulled back, Oikawa saw them each wipe a hand across their eyes, which were wet with tears. He felt his heart threatening to snap under the weight of it all. He was leaving them, his closest friends, likely never to return. These were the people who he had grown up with, the people that taught him to swim, to play, to fight. He was abandoning them. The thought alone made his own eyes prick with emotion. His heart began to fill with regret, making him question everything he was doing. _Was this really the right choice?_ His thoughts were interrupted by the stockier knight.

“Please don’t die on us,” said Bokuto, his voice cracking slightly as he sniffed. Oikawa met his saddened gaze, biting his lip to hold back a sob of his own. He turned to Daichi, whose eyes were also misty. He opened his arms, inviting the knight into a hug of his own. He stepped forward, locking his arms around Oikawa. He patted him on the shoulder and pulled away. He reached into one of the stalls, scrounging through the straw to pull out a long, sheathed blade. He handed it to the prince, who stiffened in surprise. The sword was decorated and strong, clearly not one of the normal swords that the knights used. He traced his finger over the ornate hilt, feeling the grooves in the metal.

“The sword was my father’s,” Daichi said. “He left it to me when he passed.” Oikawa looked at him with eyes wide. “It’s strong and dependable, it’ll suit you well.”

“I can’t- I can’t take this!” Oikawa stuttered, holding out the sword, trying to place it back into Daichi’s arms. “It’s special! You said it yourself, it was your father’s-”

“Exactly,” Daichi interrupted. “It’s a special sword for a special journey. There’s no one I’d rather have it than you.” Oikawa looked down at the beautifully-crafted blade, gripping it tightly.

“Yeah, how else will you remember us?” Kuroo asked, smiling weakly. Oikawa returned the same sorrowful smile his way and placed the sword at his side. Daichi pulled something out of his cloak, giving a rolled-up sheet of parchment to Oikawa. 

“One more thing. I figured you’d need a map,” he said and Oikawa opened the scroll, seeing a detailed map of the kingdom. One more thing he would have forgotten.

“Thank you.” Daichi nodded, looking away from the prince in a weak attempt to hide his wet eyes.

“It’s the least we could do,” he explained, untying the reins from the stall door and handing them to Oikawa. The prince took the reins and climbed onto the horse, walking it out of the stables and to the gates. They were huge and pristine and laid wide open, inviting the prince to taste the freedom that lay beyond them. He gulped, seeing the long, dark path that lay in front of him. He turned back to the knights, their image blurry from the tears pooling in the prince’s eyes. _So this is it_. He waved, pulling the hood of his cloak over his head and spurring the horse forward, past the gates and onto the unlit path. He closed his eyes, taking in the woodsy smell around him, feeling the tears finally break loose. But despite the emotion, despite the crushing weight of leaving everything he’d ever known behind, he just held the reins tighter. He blinked away the rest of his tears and stared ahead, not once looking back.


	3. The Kingdom

The cities were far bigger and livelier than Oikawa had ever expected. He’d never been allowed to leave the Palace on his own before, so all of the streets and carts and markets were a new thrill for him. There was a constant buzz of activity with people yelling, animals stomping, and children bustling about. He found himself smiling stupidly at the whole experience, genuinely excited about being away from the castle. All around him, there seemed to be a busy atmosphere, one that treated him like another human being. There were no parades and carriages, just people pushing past him as if he was just another street vendor. He couldn’t help but feel so impossibly small in the swarming crowds. But somehow, he felt right at home, calmed by the mundane activities carried out all around him.

But as independent and free he felt in the cities, he wasn’t able to entirely achieve anonymity. He had only been gone from the palace a few weeks and he had already seen messengers go around the city, spreading the word that the prince had disappeared. They handed out posters that had his picture on them and tacked them to walls and street lamps all over the city. Because of this, Oikawa had to start wearing the hood of his cloak up at all times. It made him seem suspicious, leading mothers to pull their children out of his path whenever he walked near them. 

He hated seeing the people fear him, watching him pass through the streets looking like a criminal. He remembered going on visits to the capital as a child with his father. Every time they went to the city, there were parades held in their honor. Oikawa shuddered as he remembered that the people’s faces closely resembled those of the fearful citizens he had passed earlier that day. The people always watch his father with a trembling, anxious gaze. Almost as if he was some vengeful god who could, and would, strike them down at any moment. Oikawa hated it then, and he hated it now.

He had been walking all day, finding his way through one of the major agricultural cities. As he approached the edge of the city, he was able to see the vast farms and fields that surrounded the great city. The light breeze made the crops sway in the wind, making the sunshine ripple off them like waves on the ocean. Oikawa didn’t think he’d ever seen something so beautiful before. Well, this was actually his response to many of the sights he had seen after leaving the palace. He slowly began to realize how much of the world that she would’ve missed if he just stayed at the palace. 

After passing the fields, he came to a small village populated mostly by farming folk. He walked down the main path for a while before eventually stopping at an inn on the outskirts of town. The inn was nice and had a stable for his horse, something that had been rather hard to find in the cities, as many people traveled by carriage or foot. He was looking through his bag for coins, getting ready to pay for the night when a small, orange-haired boy bounced up to him. 

“What’s with the hood?” he asked, eyeing Oikawa suspiciously. Wearing a hooded cloak wasn’t common in such warm weather. The boy also noticed an ornate sheath hanging at the man’s side, probably a rare and expensive sword. Whoever this man was, he certainly wasn’t the average traveler. At hearing the words, Oikawa turned to look at the boy, most of his face obscured by the fabric of the hood.

“Come on, take it off. We’ve gotta make sure you aren’t a criminal!” The boy said, staring at Oikawa. The prince felt a shiver run down his spine at the idea of revealing his identity to this stranger. What if the boy recognized him? What would happen then? His hands were shaking as they reached up for the hood, taking the edges of the fabric in his hands and pulling it away from his head. Slowly, he removed the hood, revealing his face to the smaller boy. He watched as the boy’s face seemed to light up as if he knew something. Oikawa almost felt nauseous as he dreaded the boy's next words.

“Hmmm,” the boy said, thinking. “You look a little familiar.” Oikawa felt himself go pale at the boy’s comment. _He’d only been gone a few weeks, surely the adventure would last longer than this! There’s no way he could be caught so soon!_ He started to panic, letting his mind jump to every possible conclusion. _What if he had to go back to the palace!? His father would surely kill him on the spot!_ His scrambled thoughts were interrupted by a slightly taller, dark-haired boy coming out from behind a door.

“You think everyone looks familiar, dumbass,” the boy growled. He turned his attention to Oikawa, who stood tensely, as if under investigation. He looked over him for a second before turning back to the orange-haired boy beside him.

“I do not, Bakageyama!” he said angrily, getting up to chase the other around the small room. Oikawa let out a breath, relieved that his cover as some random traveler wasn’t blown. He looked outside, to where the two boys had disappeared, the smaller one racing after the other, all the while shouting curses and nonsense. Oikawa watched as the sun began to sink, realizing that it would soon be time to eat. Across the way, he saw a dining hall lit up by a few torches and candles in the window. He pushed his way out the door, making his way over to the building, hoping to get some more food than the measly rations that he had packed before leaving.

Once inside, he wandered over to an empty table. There weren’t many people, and the ones that were there seemed to look at him with suspicious, brooding eyes. He definitely wasn’t dressed in farming clothes and thus attracted a good amount of attention. He was starting to feel rather uncomfortable when two young men walked up to his table, pulling out the chairs and making themselves at home.

“Oi stranger, why haven’t we seen you around here before?” One asked. Oikawa recognized him as the dark-haired boy from earlier, the so-called ‘bakageyama.’ His companion was the small, orange-headed boy that had been chasing him around.

“I’m from the Capital,” said Oikawa. Technically, he wasn’t wrong. The palace lay on the outskirts of the vast city, far away from any of the life of the city. Oikawa regretted that he had only been able to spend a few hours traveling through due to the fact that he had scouts looking for him at every turn.

“Capital’s pretty far away isn’t it?” the shorter boy said. “Why’re you so far from home?” His tiny, golden eyes narrowed at Oikawa, whose answer was caught in his throat. _What was he going to tell them? Oh yeah, just running away from home, no big deal. Not like I’m totally the lost prince that everyone’s trying to find._

“You’re so nosy, Hinata,” spat the blue-eyed boy. “Maybe he doesn’t want to tell two complete strangers where he’s going.” Oikawa stifled a laugh at the comment, watching the other boy roll his eyes and stick out his tongue.

“Whatever, stupid! I came here to eat, not get insulted,” Hinata said. Oikawa perked up at the thought of food, noticing how his stomach growled at the mention of it. “Sounds like he is too,” Hinata said, giggling at Oikawa from across the table. Oikawa just nodded, not even trying to conceal his desire for any form of sustenance. He watched as the taller boy got up from the chairs.

“I’ll go get us some plates,” he said before walking away. Oikawa nodded, thanking the boy before looking back at Hinata. 

“Sorry for being nosy,” he mumbled as an apology. “We don’t get a lot of outsiders here.” Oikawa smiled, waving his hand as he dismissed the apology. 

“You’re fine, I think grumpy over there is the real problem around here.” He watched as Hinata burst out laughing, clutching at his stomach as he did so. He laughed with him for a while, trailing off as he watched the black-haired boy return to the table with three plates of food in his hands. He watched the boy set down the plate in front of him before handing one to Hinata as well. He eagerly dug in, eating the vegetables and plain meat with vigor. The other two followed suit, gobbling down the meal as fast as they could. Once he could get in a breath, he spoke asking for the dark-haired boy’s name.

“Kageyama,” he started. “Kageyama Tobio.” He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, showing little regard for the table manners that Oikawa had been taught in the Palace. There were still little things as such that threw Oikawa off. With each passing day, he became increasingly aware of the differences between his comfortable life in the palace and the normal lives that most of the kingdom lived. He realized that he’d have to try pretty hard to come off as some ordinary traveler.

“So, you and Tobio-chan work here at the inn?” He asked Hinata, smirking at Kageyama’s embarrassed face, flushed from the nickname.

“Yep!” Hinata smiled at Oikawa. “But, Tobio-chan also trains with some of the local knights,” Hinata added, also taking joy in teasing the dark-haired boy. 

“Is that so?” Oikawa asked, remembering his time training with the knights at the palace. Kageyama resembled Oikawa’s own build: lanky and lithe. His eyes were sharp too, always thinking and planning. _He’d make a great knight_ , thought Oikawa. _It’s a shame that he stuck all the way out here..._

“Yeah,” Kageyama started. “Gotta be able to protect yourself around here, you never know who’s gonna walk through.” He stared at Oikawa suspiciously, hanging on to the last part of the sentence. He didn’t trust him; no one ever came here from the capital. The capital was a rich and flourishing city that no one ever wanted to leave. It made Kageyama wonder what his intentions were, as no one would come all this way without a reason, and a damn good one at that. Oikawa noticed the boy’s shifting face. The boy was on to him, and he needed to come up with something to throw him off.

“You’re wondering why I’m here, yes?’ Oikawa asked, perfectly reading Kageyama’s thoughts. Hinata perked up from across the table, his curiosity not well-contained. They both nodded, wanting Oikawa’s explanation. “I’m looking for someone,” he said. “But I’m not quite sure who.” The two boys looked at Oikawa in confusion, uncertain of the meaning of his words.

“What do you mean?” asked the dark-haired boy. That seemed like a pretty dumb reason to make a weeks-long trip from the capital. _How could he not know who he was looking for?_

“It’s kind of a long story,” began Oikawa. _Not that I know it that well myself_ , he thought, barely recalling the details of his father’s story. “But I have this… affliction,” he continued, trying his best to word the curse lightly.

“You need a healer,” Hinata said, his eyes lighting up as he turned to the taller boy beside him. “We know a healer!” He shook Kageyama’s arm excitedly.

Kageyama pushed him off, nearly throwing the boy from his seat. “We don’t know a healer, we know _of_ a healer,” he explained. “And besides, he’s probably some legend, I doubt he’s even real.” Kageyama rolled his eyes at the absurdity of Hinata’s suggestion while Oikawa looked on confused. _Who were they talking about?_

“You don’t know that, stupid!” Hinata growled.

“I hate to be a bother, but… who exactly are you referring to?” Oikawa asked, watching both boys look at him and then at each other. They seemed to be deciding whether or not to tell Oikawa something crucial, and it made the prince rather antsy.

“Umm,” Hinata looked at the taller boy before turning back to Oikawa. “As kids, we were told stories of a mage who lived in the forest just north of here. They said his magic was ancient, that he was a part of the guild. But…” his head fell to look at his plate in front of him as he slowly picked at his food. He seemed to be avoiding the next part of the story. “They were just that: stories. We have no idea if he was real or not, much less alive by now.” Oikawa felt his heart sink at the words, hitting his stomach with a thud. His crestfallen face must’ve been seen by the orange-headed boy, whose eyes widened as his hand shot out to touch Oikawa’s arm.

He attempted to comfort Oikawa by shaking his arm lightly, getting his attention away from his thoughts. “Don’t worry, I mean, there are bound to be other healers around here.” He laughed halfheartedly as he said it. Oikawa smiled bitterly at his words, thinking back to his own optimism just weeks earlier.

“I don’t know,” said Oikawa. “I’ve tried just about everything.” He was beginning to run out of hope, and this mysterious mage seemed like the perfect opportunity. _But was he real? And even if he was, could he help him?_ He sighed as he weighed his options. “You said just north of here?” Oikawa asked Hinata, trying to confirm the location of the mage. Hinata looked at him incredulously.

“You’re- You’re not really going to look for him right?” he sputtered. _He must really be desperate if he’s chasing myths._ Something about it didn’t sit right with Hinata.

“Of course I am,” laughed Oikawa, completely understanding the absurdity of his own decision. “I don’t really have any other choice.” His laughter stopped as his reality began to sink in. _‘I really don’t have any other choice.’_

“You’re insane,” mumbled Kageyama, taking a drink of his ale. “Even if the old man does exist, you’ll die before you ever meet him.”

“I’ll die anyway,” Oikawa said sharply, making both boys pause in alarm. “So why not give it a shot?” He watched as Kageyama’s eyes widened in disbelief. Kageyama was surprised, he’d met plenty of strange travelers in his time at the inn, but none as immensely desperate as this one. He sighed as he thought of what to do next. _Should he help him?_

They all walked out of the hall and back towards the inn after their dinner. Oikawa was exhausted and his hand burned. He would need to rebandage it before long, not that it would really make a difference. Oikawa had gone to his room, unlocking the door when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He wheeled around quickly, grabbing a small dagger from his belt and thrusting it into the darkness around him. He heard a yelp and footsteps stumbling backward. He recognized the voice: Kageyama!

“God! Are you alright!?” he asked, rushing forwards to help the boy in front of him. 

“Jeez, yes I’m fine!” he responded. _Good, he hadn’t stabbed him_ . “But don’t be pulling any more knives on me when I’m trying to help you!” Oikawa froze, _help him?_

“You’re going to help me?” he asked, confused at Kageyama’s generosity. He had seemed awfully cranky at dinner and Oikawa half-expected the boy to be plotting his murder. Help was that last thing he expected from him, not that he was going to deny it.

“Well, yeah. I can’t just let you walk into the Northwoods without anything. That's certain death.” Oikawa nodded at him, thankful that the boy had a conscience. He heard him rustle with a bag he had slung over his shoulder and pull out a rolled sheet of paper. He opened it and moved closer to Oikawa, trying to point something out. Oikawa opened his door and let the boy inside, using the light of an oil-lamp to shed light on the parchment, which Oikawa could now see was a map.

“This is the beginning of the trail,” Kageyama started, pointing at a curving line on the paper. “If you take this for a while, it’ll lead to a small village. The mage, if he exists, would probably live there.” Oikawa pointed at another twisting path that wove its way through the woods. 

“What about this path?” he asked, trailing his fingers along the map. He watched Kageyama shake his head vigorously. 

“No, you can’t take that one, especially at night. There are bandits all throughout the Northwoods, they’ll get you if you don’t stick to the main road.” Oikawa nodded, slightly alarmed at the fear written all over Kageyama’s face at the mention of the thieves.

“And... that’s it?” Oikawa asked.

“Pretty much. But don’t worry about the thieves too much, you’re bound to die of something else out there.” Kageyama said unblinkingly. Oikawa laughed at that, cackling at the boy’s oddly-stern face.

“Thanks for having some faith in me Tobio-chan.” He patted the boy’s head, messing up his hair a bit, much to Kageyama's annoyance. He stood up, rearranging his hair before walking out the door. He walked back to his own quarters, thinking about the ornate blade that hung at Oikawa’s side. The sword was strong and probably expensive, likely that of a true knight. He recalled his earlier words to the man: _‘But don’t worry about the thieves too much.’_ He thought to himself as he settled into bed, _If Oikawa actually knew how to use a sword like that, he'd have no problem with the bandits_.

On the other side of the inn, Oikawa lay in his bed, staring at his gloved hand. He unwrapped the bandages beneath it and gasped at seeing the progress that the wound had made. It had crept up to his wrist, making the whole hand a mess of blackened flesh. He breathed slowly as we re-wrapped it, willing himself to calm down. He lay there for a while as he stared out the small window that sat next to the bed. _By this time tomorrow_ , he told himself, _I’ll meet the mage and he’ll help me. This wound will disappear and I’ll go back to father and the palace and my friends_. He smiled at the thought, trying desperately to believe it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The forest was huge. Oikawa had vastly underestimated the size of the trees when he had first heard the people mention the Northwoods. He’d heard stories when he was a child of the great trees of the north. Not that he would have ever been allowed to see them. So seeing them now was quite the experience.

He had been riding since dawn, and the sun, though he could barely see it through the canopy, was reaching midday. He stopped to eat a bit, letting his horse rest too. Looking around at the trees, he began to notice the sheer size of their trunks, many of them too big to climb. This was peculiar to him because the trees at the palace were usually skinny and decorative. The bigger trees lay in the palace orchards, surrounded by ladders and baskets. Oikawa smiled as he remembered climbing the trees with the knights, chasing each other through the branches, occasionally slipping and falling to the ground in a heap. They would later get scolded by the gardeners and farmers who managed the orchards for climbing. Oikawa winced, remembering the harsh words of one of the women. That was one part he didn’t miss. But everything else... He sighed. There was no denying that he missed the palace. Everything seemed comfy and easy and safe. But, Oikawa realized now, that’s all it was. It only _seemed_ like a great place, and as he traveled through the cities and the countrysides of the kingdom, he found that the palace was far more boring than he ever realized.

He shook himself from his thoughts and turned back to his horse that was still happily chewing at the grass. He felt his eyes get heavy and he sat down at the base of one of the trees. He didn’t even feel himself close his eyes, much less nod off to sleep in the middle of the forest. When he awoke, he scrambled to his feet, alarmed that he had fallen asleep in such a dangerous spot. He could’ve been killed! And to Oikawa’s dismay, the nap wasn’t the only thing that had gone wrong. Apparently, judging by the sun’s position in the sky, his nap had been a few hours long, meaning that it was now the late afternoon. 

He anxiously climbed onto his horse and began to set off again for the village, trying to reach it before nightfall. After a few more hours of riding, Oikawa reached a fork in the path. After referencing the maps, he recognized them as the two trails that Kageyama had pointed out to him. On his left was the one that Kageyama had told him to take. But as Oikawa followed it’s snaking path up the map, he found that it was considerably longer. He glanced upwards, estimating the time left in the day. There was no way he would be able to make it in time. But if he took the other path... He looked at it, both on the map and then in front of him. It went deep into the forest but was a lot shorter. If he tried, he could maybe make it to the village before sunset.

He bit his lip, unsure of which way to go. He looked down the dark path on the right and then back to the sky, where the sun was sinking towards the horizon. He groaned in frustration and urged his horse forward, going right into the dark woods. The foliage here was thicker and more vines snaked across the paths, making navigating the unlit path difficult. As the hours dragged on, the forest grew dimmer and dimmer, the shadows of leaves making dancing shadows on the path.

As the sun began to set, the path forked unexpectedly. Oikawa consulted the map, confused when he saw no markings that indicated such a split. He huffed, frustrated that he not only took the one path he wasn’t supposed to, but he was now forced down a path that wasn’t on the map. Both paths looked equally dangerous, none of them offering any insight as to where they led. Eventually, Oikawa decided to go to his right, as it seemed to be a part of the one on the map.

He rode for a while, later reaching a small clearing. Oikawa could see as the sun began to sink below the horizon, turning the once-blue sky around him into a swirl of orange and red. In a few minutes, the light had all but gone from the world, its only source coming from the pale glow of the moon. 

_This isn’t good_ , he thought. He was supposed to reach the village by the evening, and here he was, stuck in the forest. All around him, shadows danced in his peripheral vision, making him jump at every noise. He dismounted his horse for a second, glancing around the tall trees suspiciously. He heard cracks of sticks and leaves on the forest floor. _Probably just an animal_ , he thought. He hoped it was just an animal. 

He listened as the noises came closer. His mind raced, trying to find any logical explanation for the noises. He thought of all the animals that could be here. _A bear?_ No, a bear would be louder. _Maybe it was a panther?_ No, a panther would be much quieter. He whipped around, hearing a loud crunch behind him. There in the path stood a man dressed in traveler’s clothes. Oikawa couldn’t even get a word out before he watched the man reach for his belt, unsheathing a small knife. The color drained from his face as he realized the situation; he was a bandit.

Oikawa reached for the sword at his side, hand resting lightly on the handle. Behind him, he heard more crunches, indicating that the man in front of him wasn’t the only one here. He cursed under his breath as he loosened his cloak, throwing it on the ground. He tightened his grip on the sword and drew it out of its sheath. He pivoted on one foot, spinning to see the bandits who were starting to surround him. 

There had to be more than ten by now; each of them holding a weapon. Some had knives like the first man, others carried small broadswords. Even in the cold, evening air, Oikawa could feel the sweat drip down his neck. He was nervous and gripped the sword tighter in an effort to steady himself.

“You don’t seem to be from around here,” one pointed out. “The locals tend to have enough sense to stay out of here at night.” The man who was speaking had a toothy grin on his face. He was the first to approach the prince, quickly slashing his knife through the air. Oikawa met his blade with the sword, pushing the man back and onto the ground. The man scrambled to his feet, brushing off some dirt before racing at him again, this time with backup.

This time, there were three others that came with him. Oikawa swung the sword in a long arc, slicing in a circle around him. The men jumped out of the way before lunging forward again. Oikawa twisted the sword using the blade as a thin shield and pushing back two of the men. He swung it around once more, catching one man in the legs, sending his falling to the forest floor, howling as he went. 

The other three stood surprised, watching this odd traveler easily take down one of their men. But they turned back to face Oikawa with rage in their eyes. More bandits poured out from the edge of the forest, rushing to aid the first attackers. Oikawa stood his ground, swinging the sword and defending his position. But despite his efforts, the attackers were easily able to overwhelm him. One caught him in the calf, the knife slicing through his pants and into his skin. 

He grimaced, grunting in pain as he stumbled to a knee. The bandits took advantage of the fall, kicking him into the dirt. Their fists flew at him wildly, striking his ribs and face repeatedly. He abandoned the sword, letting it fall to the ground beside him as he reached for a small dagger in his belt. With the little blade, he was able to slice at some of the hands that were pummeling him into the dirt, eventually getting enough space for him to push himself up, staggering to his feet.

He watched the men around him, twirling their blades, readying themselves for the next wave. Oikawa coughed some air into his lungs, trying to stand steady as he reached for the sword on the ground, picking it up and brandishing it weakly towards the small crowd that surrounded him. They seemed to notice his exhaustion as they began to walk towards him, smiling as they did. Oikawa shook his head, clearing his sweaty hair from his face as he tried to keep the sword from shaking where he held it. 

‘Always keep your head,’ the knights used to tell him. Oikawa opened his eyes wider, focusing intently on the situation and trying to dispel the fatigue that had begun to wash over him. ‘Keep a steady base,’ they would say. Oikawa shifted his weight from the injured leg, widening his stance as he prepared to fight the attackers. He remembered the last piece of advice that an elder knight had told him as a young boy. The old man used to say: ‘Knights are trained to defend, but you are no knight. So in the case of life and death,... you strike first.’

Oikawa grit his teeth as he lunged forward towards the men, his aggressiveness catching them off-guard as they reeled away from the prince’s expert swings of the sword. He used his good leg to twist around, parrying against another onslaught of attackers from behind. For a second, he seemed triumphant, confident in his ability to defend against the bandits. But one snuck up from behind, his footsteps quiet enough to evade Oikawa’s ears. The boy sliced at the back of Oikawa’s thigh, forcing him to his knees once again. 

He lay there, watching the attacker begin to wind up, preparing what would be their last attack. But as he sat there, he saw one of the bandits fall to the ground, clutching at his throat where an arrow had lodged itself. He watched as the man screamed, his cries garbled by the blood spilling from his mouth. Oikawa turned to the other attackers who had stopped in their tracks, watching their fallen comrade in horror. But before they could make any move to abandon the prince on the ground, more arrows were loosed from the forest, striking many of the men in their legs and chests. Oikawa watched in mixed terror and elation as the group retreated to the woods, abandoning him in the center of the small clearing.

Oikawa was in disbelief; it seemed as if the very forest had saved him. Almost as if the trees had the bows that fired upon the bandits. However, he realized that this was not the case as he watched a cloaked man jump from a tree and land on the ground a few meters away from him. Oikawa tried to stand, his face twisting in pain as he let out a small whine. He managed to clamber to his feet, but the noise alerted the man across the clearing, who snapped his head towards him. Oikawa forced a thankful smile onto his dirt-covered face.

“Thank you! Really,” Oikawa said, starting to stagger towards the man. The stranger took an arrow from his quiver and drew back his bowstrings, pointing the projectile towards Oikawa. He stopped in his tracks, fearing that the man would shoot him as well.

“Who are you?” the man asked gruffly, his large brows furrowing angrily at Oikawa. His green eyes were catlike and stared at Oikawa with vicious scrutiny. Oikawa felt himself shiver at the gaze, having half a mind to be fearful of this hero who had saved him.

“I’m the- I’m a traveler,” Oikawa explained, watching as the man’s grip on the bow never faltered. Even under the cloak, Oikawa could tell that the man was strong, and the way he held the bow only served to prove his might.

“A stupid one,” the man replied curtly, the bow dropping ever so slightly. Oikawa’s mouth dropped open, unused to such disrespect. “No one with any sense takes this trail, much less at night,” he continued, picking through some of the bags and weapons that the bandits had dropped on the ground.

“I didn't have the right map, I got lost,” he admitted, the bitter taste of failure lingering on his tongue. 

“And you thought this was a better route?” the other asked, gesturing to the dark, thick woods around him. “Like I said: stupid,” he muttered, rummaging through the bags and finding some coins. He stashed them in his pockets before moving on to the next bag.

“I’m not from around here!” Oikawa said, frustrated. “I don’t know the ins and outs of this place very well,” he huffed, crossing his arms and turning his back to the rude stranger.

“Then where are you from?” the man asked absently.

“The capital.” The stranger turned to glance at Oikawa at hearing those words. _The capital!? That’s pretty far away, why is he here, out of anywhere else he could’ve gone_

“Why the hell are you all the way out here?” The paused his search of the bags to stand and look at the other man, who was currently standing with his arms crossed, pouting like a child.

“I’m trying to find someone,” Oikawa replied stiffly, still put off by the other’s attitude.

“Out here?” The man said confusedly. _Who was out here that this guy wanted to find? There were bound to be more-qualified people in the capital_. He saw the other man nod, confirming that he had indeed traveled to the Northwoods of all places to find someone. “Must be pretty important if you’ve come all this way,” he said to the other.

“Yeah, it wasn’t really my first choice,” said Oikawa. He watched as the cloaked man’s face contorted in confusion, an eyebrow raising in the process. “I need a healer,” he explained. “A mage, more specifically.” The cloaked man’s eyes widened in surprise.

“A mage?” he asked tentatively.

“Yes, I was told that there was a mage who lived in these woods. I was told that his magic was ancient and strong.” Oikawa tried to judge the other’s reaction to his statement. The man seemed somewhere in between surprise and anger: typically not a good combination. “They said that he might be able to help me, and I-”

“He’s dead,” the man said shortly. Oikawa looked at him, stunned by his words.

“Dead!?” he sputtered out, feeling his chest tighten as he repeated the other’s words. He watched the other man nod and turn his attention back to the bags that lay on the ground. _Dead? No. No, he couldn't be dead! He’d come all this way..._

“He’s been dead for years,” he explained as he twirled a dagger in his hand. Oikawa felt his heart sink, feeling heavy as lead inside of him. He leaned against a tree for support, no longer having the strength to stand. The boys at the inn were right; the mage was real, but he wasn’t alive. Oikawa felt his eyes prick with tears, his vision beginning to cloud. _He was close, he was so close! And yet, he failed. He was too late, a few years too late_. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks; this curse would kill him, and there was nothing he could do about it. It was just as his father said, ‘there is no magic in this world that can break that curse.’ He choked back a sob, taking gulping breaths as he tried to steady himself. 

The cloaked man seemed to notice Oikawa’s reaction, momentarily feeling a bit of guilt for being so blunt with his words. He racked his brain, trying to find something helpful to say to the distraught man. 

“Well, if that’s all that you came for, you should probably head back,” the man said. Oikawa flicked his eyes toward the man who stood across the clearing. Anger began to boil beneath his skin, stirring his blood. _How could he be so insensitive!?_ But before he could say anything, another wave of exhaustion passed over him along with another surge of pain to his hand. He grimaced as he held it, squeezing it in an attempt to soothe the burning.

“No,” he began, swallowing thickly to suppress his emotions. “There’s no point.” Oikawa pushed himself away from the tree, stumbling briefly as he tried to regain his footing. He couldn't just go back, no, that would be worse than death. He wouldn’t ever give the king the satisfaction of watching him die.

“So what’s your plan?” the other asked. Oikawa shrugged, unsure of what was to come next. He sure as hell wasn’t going back home, but staying here seemed almost just as dangerous.

“I’ll need to find my horse first,” Oikawa said, noticing that it had fled during the small battle that had happened earlier. He also gestured to his injured legs, blood dripping down his pants and staining the dirt beneath him; there was no way he’d be able to walk anywhere at a decent pace. The other nodded in understanding and started down the path that he’d come from to find Oikawa’s horse. Oikawa limped behind, his eyes staring straight ahead as he became lost in thought.

They walked for a while, finally finding the horse near the base of a particularly large cedar. The cloaked man helped Oikawa onto his steed and began to walk away, down the path, until Oikawa could no longer see him in the dimly-lit forest. He stayed there for a while, just sitting upon his horse and weighing his options. Would he go back to the inn? Those boys were nice, at least the orange-haired one was. Oikawa still had relatively mixed feelings about ‘Tobio-chan.’ He could try to find his way to the village, it would be a quiet place to live out his days. No, he could get recognized at both places, it was far too dangerous to stay in any town or city. He turned to look down in the undergrowth that the cloaked stranger had disappeared into. Oikawa figured that he’d made a lot of bad decisions tonight. _So why not one more,_ he thought as he urged his horse down the trail, following the path of the mysterious stranger.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oikawa awoke the next morning with a crick in his neck. His makeshift bed was a combination of hay and rocks, so the pain was not entirely unexpected. He looked around the barn in which he had stayed the night. It was dreadfully dirty, with cobwebs hanging in the beams and chips in the paint. He slowly seemed to remember where he was as he glanced around the barn. He had followed the stranger last night, eventually arriving at a large clearing with a cottage. He had seen a barn in the distance, and not wanting to disturb the cloaked stranger, Oikawa had ridden over to the barn to spend the night.

He sat up, brushing the straw from his hair and clothes. It seemed to be early morning and his stomach growled, hungry after eating nothing for a day. He searched through his bags on the floor, trying to find anything left of the meager rations that he had packed at the beginning of his journey. Sadly, nothing remained of the food. He groaned as he stood up to stretch, popping his back. He’d have to find something to eat, and there’d probably be something in the cottage. _Should he steal something?_ No, he wouldn’t sink that low, but he feared the man’s reaction once he told him that he’d followed him home and slept in his barn.

He put on his boots and walked outside, greeted by the morning chill. He strode across the yard, which was of considerable size, to where the stranger was bent over, picking up chopped wood from a pile near the cottage. Oikawa felt skittish as he continued to walk towards the man. _Oh, well, what’s the worst that could happen?_

“He-Hello,” Oikawa said timidly, waving his hand. The man’s head whipped around, his eyes wide and surprised as they landed on Oikawa.

“What the hell!?” he yelled. Oikawa stepped back, trying to avoid the man’s rage. “Why are you here!?” He used the chopped piece of wood to gesture angrily at Oikawa.

“I told you,” Oikawa started, trying to regain his confidence. “It’s not worth it to leave, I might as well stay here in the forest.” The man looked at him in disbelief.

“And why the hell do you think I’d let you stay here!? Just go back to the village!” His voice never faltered, still maintaining the angry note that Oikawa had first heard last night in the clearing. Oikawa had every reason to fear this man. I mean, he did just watch him take down almost an entire squad of bandits last night. But somehow, he felt calm, his previous nervousness leaving him.

“I can help around, you know, picking up wood, cooking,” he trailed off, watching the man’s face. _Besides, I won’t be a bother for long..._ he thought, realizing that his time would probably come before the year’s end. The man’s features softened, his thick brows unfurrowing a bit as he seemed to consider the offer. It was a minute of him glancing over the yard and then back to Oikawa before he sighed loudly.

“Fine,” he replied tersely. “But you start now.” Oikawa watched him pick up some more wood and carry it into the house. Oikawa tried to do the same but found the small logs to be quite heavy. He managed to lug two of them inside, following the man to the wood stove in the kitchen, loading it up and striking a match to set it ablaze.

“You said you can cook, right?” he asked, handing Oikawa a pan from where it hung on the wall. Oikawa nodded, taking the metal pan and placing it on the stove. He had always loved to sneak around in the Palace kitchens and watch the cooks. Sometimes, they would let him help, so he had some basic skills. 

“What would you like?” Oikawa asked as he opened the door to an icebox, looking through the ingredients.

“Don’t care, just don’t make it bad,” The man said before disappearing out the door, letting it slam behind him. Oikawa huffed and found some vegetables, peeling some potatoes and slicing up a few onions. He cooked them for a while, putting them on a separate plate before retrieving some eggs from the icebox. He let them cook in the juices of the vegetables until they crisped around the edges and the yolks were fully cooked, but still runny. It looked like one of the knight's breakfasts that he would eat when he trained, though it didn’t look nearly as professional as the chef’s. 

The man walked through the door as Oikawa was beginning to plate up the food. “Done?” he asked. Oikawa nodded, smiling as he placed two plates down at the table. The man looked at the food, his mouth watering at the sight. _This guy sure wasn’t lying about his cooking_ , he thought. The man couldn’t remember a time when he’d last had a meal that looked even half as good as this. He took a fork that the man had given him. He began to thank him before he realized that he didn’t know the man’s name. 

“You uh, got a name?” he asked the brown-haired man who was pouring two glasses of milk. He watched the man turn around, laughing softly at his question.

“Yeah, um Oikawa. Tooru,” he added. He looked at the man in front of him, he quirked his brow up, silently urging the other to give his name as well.

“Oh uh, Iwaizumi,” he said. “Iwaizumi Hajime.” He used his fork to mix the food around on his plate, lifting the heavenly-smelling dish to his mouth as he began to eat with fervor. Oikawa watched as the other man devoured the food on his plate, barely pausing to breathe. 

“Nice to meet you, Iwaizumi,” said Oikawa before joining the other in digging into their breakfast. Oikawa let his eyes glance around the cottage, noticing cracks in the walls and dust in the corners. He smiled; he really had his work cut out for him around here. But he didn’t really seem to mind. There was a certain peace around here, a calmness that he had never known in his life. His grin grew bigger; _this would be a fine place to live out my days._


	4. The Mage

Life in the forest wasn’t easy, but not entirely miserable. Oikawa found that there were lots of tasks and chores that he wasn’t very good at, though he really couldn’t be to blame. He’d had everything done for him his entire life and now he was having to learn how to do basic household chores. He couldn’t slack off though, as he didn’t want Iwaizumi to suspect that anything was amiss. 

Most of his days were spent inside, dusting and sweeping the cobwebs and dust bunnies from the various rooms of the cottage. Other times, Oikawa was outside tending to the small garden or picking up sticks to throw in the fireplace, not that they used it much now that summer was just around the corner. At some point every day, he was in the kitchen. He found that his favorite pastime was kneading dough into a ball. The maids and kitchen servants had taught him the basics of breadmaking when he was a child. He was definitely glad to have such a skill, especially because he was lacking in other areas, particularly washing clothes and dishes. But despite Oikawa’s half-assed cleaning job, Iwaizumi was impressed all the same. In reality, he rarely did half of the chores that this new stranger had taken on, and he was sure glad to finally live in a half-presentable house for once. Oikawa noticed this and often found himself wondering if the cottage had ever been cleaned before he showed up.

Iwaizumi on the other hand spent most of his days outside. He chopped wood and tended to the horses in the stable. Sometimes, he went off in the woods at night, carrying a bow with him in the same manner that he did when he first appeared to Oikawa. He would come home late, sometimes with a new knife or a pheasant. Oikawa wasn’t always able to tell whether or not Iwaizumi was hunting animals or humans in the forest, but he refrained from asking, fearing a nasty temper from the other. Such a temper, Oikawa found, was Iwaizumi’s norm. The man’s face was constantly frowning, especially when he was concentrating. Oikawa teased him for the way he furrowed his brow too, telling him that he’d get wrinkles if he didn’t stop doing that. Iwaizumi did not find it anywhere near as amusing as Oikawa did.

Oikawa noticed that Iwaizumi was quiet too, often just nodding his head one way or the other to communicate with him. It helped that he wasn’t unused to such interaction and took to falling in rhythm rather quickly. It surprised Iwaizumi how easily they had fallen into sync. They always seemed to know the other’s steps and how to dance around them in the tight kitchen or what to talk about when the rain kept them both inside. Iwaizumi noticed that rainy days seemed to be Oikawa’s favorite. He would usually make soup on those days and read one of the books on the mantle of the fireplace. He never pointed it out, but Iwaizumi noticed that Oikawa’s own mouth frowned when he was reading, just the same as Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi was always bored out of his mind on such days. He never knew what to do, so he usually just watched Oikawa work around the kitchen, pretending to focus on a book so that Oikawa wasn’t suspicious. He watched as Oikawa chopped the vegetables carefully before placing them into the boiling broth. It was odd though, Iwaizumi often thought, how Oikawa is always wearing gloves. They were always the same pristine, white color, not a stain on them. _They look expensive too_ , Iwaizumi thought. But he never did ask Oikawa about it, figuring that it was just a preference. And besides, he didn’t need to know everything about him. Heaven knows that Iwaizumi had secrets too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was another late night for Oikawa. He’d stayed up not only to finish washing all of Iwaizumi’s dirty clothes but also because Iwaizumi was yet to return to the house. The moon was high in the sky, reminding Oikawa of the night when they had met not so long ago. He chewed his lip as the minutes continued to pass, starting to worry about what was taking the man so long. He checked out of one of the windows, peering into the thick forest as he checked for Iwaizumi. He saw nothing, and feeling a sickening sense of worry creep into his chest, he started to move towards the door where his boots were. He slipped them on and opened the door, feeling the chilly night air hit his face.

He started to walk carefully, checking around him for any sign of the other man. As he made his way down the path towards the gate that secured the yard, he heard a crunch coming from the trees. He narrowed his eyes, trying harder to see the figure that was stumbling out of the forest. The figure slumped against the gate, groaning as it looked up to Oikawa, who was currently frozen in fear. It took him a while to recognize the spiky hair and piercing, green eyes of the man who stood in front of him.

He rushed forward to aid the man in standing, finding his cloak to be wet and warm. He pulled his hand back, using the moonlight to confirm his fear. It was blood and lots of it. He looked down at the man who was struggling to hang onto him. His right side was painted with the red liquid, dripping down onto his pants and splattering on the ground. He winced as Oikawa grabbed his arm and pulled him up, shuffling with him down the path and towards the door of the cottage.

They made it inside, neither of them bothering to take off their boots or outerwear. Oikawa grimaced as he heard the blood pour out of Iwaizumi, hitting the floor loudly. He pulled the man up the stairs and into his room, placing him gently on the bed as he removed his cloak and pressed the fabric into the man’s wound. A shout made its way out of Iwaizumi’s throat as he reached out to grab onto the sheets of the bed in a poor attempt to stabilize himself.

“Press on it,” Oikawa said as he left the injured man’s side, disappearing to a closet to search for medical supplies. He rummaged through the bin and boxes, finding a pair of scissors and bandages. He returned to Iwaizumi on the bed, whose face was currently contorted in pain, his teeth gritting. Oikawa cut away his shirt, gasping as he revealed a deep laceration in the man’s side. 

“What did you do!?” he asked, frightened at what could've caused such damage. His hands were shaking as he pulled away the rest of the fabric, exposing Iwaizumi’s chest to the cold air around them.

“Nothing,” the other bit out. Oikawa furrowed his brows at the other, despising such a stupid answer.

“This,” Oikawa said, pressing on the wound with a fresh cloth. “Is not nothing. This is a stab wound, and a bad one too!” He watched as the other clapped a hand over his mouth, trying to stifle the screams that were fighting their way out of him. Oikawa’s eyes were wide with fear. Of course, he had helped the knights when he was at the palace, but nothing this serious ever arose out of the sparring matches. It became apparent to him rather quickly that he wasn’t entirely cut out for handling injuries like this. Nevertheless, he continued to apply pressure to the bleeding cut in the man’s side, emulating what the palace healers had done for one of the knights when he was a child. 

He pulled away the bloodied cloth, peering at the gash in Iwaizumi’s side. With most of the blood being soaked up by the cloth, Oikawa could better examine the severity of the wound. He breathed a small sigh of relief as he realized that instead of one huge cut, there were several smaller lacerations across his ribs. They were still severe though, and probably wouldn’t be able to close up on their own. Racking his brain, he remembered how the court’s healers had sewn up one of the servant boys after an accident. Oikawa knew very little when it came to sewing, and he figured that the healers’ thread was different from the thread that lay in one of the baskets next to the bed. However, if he didn’t close the wound, it was bound to get infected.

He moved away from the bed, going down the stairs to search for the thread and a needle. He came back up to a near-motionless Iwaizumi in the bed. There was sweat plastering his dark hair to his forehead and as Oikawa looked closer, there was blood along with it. _This was bad. What happened to him?_ Thoughts danced around Oikawa’s mind, painting horrible scenes of brutality in their wake.

He reached out to the man again, removing the cloth and using a wet rag to wipe away any remaining blood and dirt in the wound. He silently apologized as Iwaizumi gasped above him in pain.

“I know this hurts enough already, but I’m gonna need you to bear with it a little longer,” he said, watching Iwaizumi nod at him and continue staring at the ceiling. He took out one last piece of cloth and handed it to the man as he threaded the needle out of view. “Bite it,” said Oikawa as he shoved the cloth to Iwaizumi’s face. Oikawa tentatively began to stitch the wound shut, his heart aching at the noises that the other was making, only slightly muffled by the thin fabric he had given him. After a few minutes, the stitching was over and Oikawa pulled back to look at his handiwork. It was ugly, but he’d live, and for that he was thankful.

Iwaizumi lay there on the bed panting and grimacing from the pain. Oikawa searched through the bathroom in the hallway, finding another small towel to wet and place on the man’s forehead. He moved the rag a little bit, cleaning the blood and sweat from Iwaizumi’s face and hair before dragging it down his shirtless body. He gently ran it over his blood-covered chest, looking at the other’s face occasionally to gauge the pain. He eventually made his way down to Iwaizumi’s bloodied pants, tugging at them to free the other’s legs from the tattered cloth. 

Oikawa watched Iwaizumi turn his head away from where Oikawa began to clean the rest of his battered body, seemingly embarrassed. Oikawa was slightly confused; he’d always dressed in front of the knights before, so he wasn’t that shocked by the sight of a naked man. And he’d been around plenty of injured soldiers before, so cutting off the clothes of the wounded wasn’t new to him either. He shrugged as he went back to work, running the cloth down Iwaizumi’s legs, clearing the blood from his skin. After a few minutes of Oikawa’s meticulous preening, Iwaizumi was clean again, his only blemishes being the cuts, scrapes, and bruises littered all over his body. Oikawa was curious, infuriatingly so, but pursed his lips and abstained from asking. Iwaizumi was certainly in no state to give answers anyway.

Oikawa searched through a dresser in the corner of the room, finding a loose shirt and a pair of pants to dress the other in. He slipped on the clothes, taking care to avoid any tender wounds as he tied the pants closed. He bent down to gather up the soiled clothes that lay on the floor, carrying them with the other bloodied rags as he left the room to go downstairs. As he made his way down, he was finally becoming lucid enough to notice the state of the house. Blood had splattered all over the stone floor, making its way up onto the walls and cabinets of the kitchen. He sighed as he tip-toed across the house, careful not to track any more dirt or blood across the floor. He reached the linen closet next to the pantry and pulled out a small woven basket, dumping the clothes in and setting it outside, leaving the mess for tomorrow. He turned back to the main room of the house, frowning at the mess on the floor. Oikawa mumbled something under his breath, cursing as he reached for the last few towels to clean up the blood. 

He could’ve sworn that he knelt there for hours scrubbing the blood off the floor. He didn’t stop until not a single stain marred the grey stone. Most of the towels and spare cloth in the house had been ruined at this point, all of them soiled with the same nasty, red hue. It was sickening just thinking about Iwaizumi’s weak frame stumbling through the house, blood pouring freely from his side. _How much had he lost? How long was he out there?_ Oikawa shook his head, clearing his mind. There would be plenty of time for worrying tomorrow, now he needed rest, as did Iwaizumi.

He made his way back up the stairs, stopping briefly at the sink in the bathroom to tend to himself. Looking in the mirror, he saw that his own face had streaks of Iwaizumi’s blood on it. He used his sleeve and wiped away the stain. Oikawa went to his room, changing into his nightclothes and grabbing a quilt from the mattress. He walked tiredly over to Iwaizumi’s room, setting his blanket on the floor and moving towards the candles that illuminated the room. 

Iwaizumi was still awake, the pain still burning across his ribs. Despite the pain, his fatigue seemed to be winning, dragging him further down into unconsciousness. But before he could close his eyes, he watched Oikawa move across the room, blowing out each of the candles that lit the small space. Oikawa laid down on the wooden floor, covering himself with the blanket. Iwaizumi looked over at him in the darkness, barely able to make out the shape of his still-glove-covered hands poking out from under the quilt.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Iwaizumi’s outdoor chores proved to be harder than they looked and Oikawa came to this conclusion very quickly. Even just picking up the heavy wood was hard and chopping it was even worse. He tried not to complain though; it’s not like Iwaizumi was in any shape to help out. 

The injured man stayed in his room upstairs as Oikawa had forbidden him from leaving. He had grumbled as Oikawa forced him to lie down after he’d tried to stand, the other easily overpowering him in his weakened state. Iwaizumi hated this, he hated feeling so useless and weak. But despite his incessant complaints, Oikawa didn’t let him leave his room. He always brought him food and water, making sure to help him re-bandage the gash at his ribs when necessary. He didn’t admit it, but he was thankful, even if Oikawa was shit at wrapping and even worse at cleaning wounds.

“Fuck!” he shouted. “That hurts, you know!” Iwaizumi was glaring at Oikawa who held a damp cloth in his hand, pressing it lightly to the surface of his wound. Oikawa stared back, an offended look in his eyes. He’d thought that he was pretty good at wrapping wounds, what with having to re-bandage his own hand every night.

“Oh, I’m sorry, would you rather me leave you here to clean it yourself?” Oikawa responded, shoving the cloth into Iwaizumi’s face.

“Trust me, I’m considering it…”

“Usually, you’re supposed to be thankful when someone helps you. It wouldn’t hurt you to learn some manners Iwa-chan.” Oikawa said offhandedly, watching as Iwaizumi’s mouth parted slightly.

“I-Iwa-chan?” he sputtered. Oikawa met his astounded gaze, realizing that he’d probably overstepped his boundaries.

“Oh, sorry, I like coming up with nicknames for people. It’s a bad habit,” Oikawa said, awkwardly laughing and refocusing back on the wound to avoid the other’s eyes.

“No it’s- it’s fine.” Iwaizumi turned to look out the window next to his bed, scanning the land of the small farm outside. Oikawa finished cleaning the wound, wrapping a new clean cloth around Iwaizumi’s waist. _That was the hardest part_ , he thought, _getting all those damn clothes clean!_ Washing the blood out had been a tedious process, but Oikawa’s efforts proved successful. 

“You should rest,” Oikawa said as he saw Iwaizumi try to sit up in bed. The other rolled his eyes and continued to push himself up into a somewhat seated position.

“That’s all I've been doing,” Iwaizumi growled. He crossed his arms, wincing as one of them touched his side.

“Well, I mean, you were **stabbed** ,” Oikawa pointed out, watching Iwaizumi’s proud attitude dissipate a little. “Speaking of that… what exactly happened?”

“Bandits,” he said concisely. Oikawa couldn't quite tell if that was just Iwaizumi’s normal, blunt form of speech or if it was his I-don’t-want-to-talk-about-it tone. Unsure, he decided to press on.

“You fought them off last time just fine, what went wrong?” Oikawa remembered how Iwaizumi had saved him that night not even two fortnights ago. He hadn’t had any trouble then...

“You had them distracted then, they knew I was coming this time,” Iwaizumi explained.

“Sounds to me like you should stop hunting them, it does seem pretty dangerous,” Oikawa offered. After all, he only ever came back with meager supplies. It didn’t really seem worth it to go out and hunt them down.

“Sounds to me like you should mind your own damn business,” Iwaizumi spat, annoyed at Oikawa’s observance. Oikawa was caught off guard by his snappy statement but hid it well, simply snorting out a laugh in response to Iwaizumi’s bitter remark.

“How sweet of you, Iwa-chan,” he said, turning to walk out the door. He closed it behind him, sighing as he did so. This was exhausting, and Iwaizumi’s grouchy nature only added to his stress. Lost in thought, his eyes caught another door at the end of the hallway, an ornate knob decorating its front. It occurred to him that he hadn’t explored every room in the house and this was as good a time as ever to really figure out the cottage from top to bottom.

He started to move towards the door, reaching it and twisting the handle. The beautiful knob turned and then caught, moving no further. Oikawa twisted it again, but made no progress; it was locked. Oikawa frowned, not recalling any time that Iwaizumi had said anything about some mysterious room upstairs. He shrugged, walking to the opposite end of the hallway where his room lay, adjacent to Iwaizumi's own. _I’ll leave it for some other time_ , he thought as he blew out his candles for the evening. 

The night passed quickly, the day ushering itself in with a bright sky that illuminated the trees outside. Iwaizumi waited patiently in bed for Oikawa to bring up food. While he was waiting, he craned his neck to look out the window, staring at the barn across the yard. Even in the pale light of the early morning, it was a bright red. He smiled, remembering how Oikawa had insisted on repainting it. Iwaizumi had watched him from the other side of the yard as he painted over the cracks in the old paint. Right now, it looked brand new, a stark contrast to its surroundings. Oikawa’s efforts weren’t unwelcome though. In fact, Iwaizumi took some pride in finally having the small homestead fixed up.

The door pushed open, drawing Iwaizumi’s attention away from the window and towards the man carrying a plate of food. He smiled briefly as he set down the plate on the bedside table. He raised his hand to Iwaizumi’s forehead. He flinched away for a moment, not understanding Oikawa’s intentions. Oikawa just moved his hand closer, using the back of it to press against the other’s head.

“Just checking for a fever,” he explained. Iwaizumi relaxed, feeling Oikawa’s hand pull away as he shook his head from side to side, indicating that he was fine.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m just… on edge, I guess.” He recalled the night a few days ago in the forest, there had been so many of them. His small bow and dagger weren’t anywhere near enough to hold off the horde of bandits that had poured out of the trees. He shook away the thought, reaching for the plate and watching as Oikawa looked on in silence. They stayed like that for a bit before Oikawa spoke up.

“Iwa-chan,” he started, making Iwaizumi choke on his food momentarily. He still wasn’t quite used to the nickname, although Oikawa seemed to have no qualms over using it. “There’s a door down the hallway… I was wondering where it leads.”

“Wow, I thought you already knew where the bathroom was,” he joked.

“I know that one!” Oikawa cried though he wasn’t entirely displeased with Iwaizumi’s playful banter. “Not the bathroom. The one at the end of the hall, the one with the pretty handle.” Iwaizumi’s face suddenly dropped, all playfulness immediately subsiding as he shook his head at Oikawa.

“No,” He started, watching as Oikawa’s eyes gained a dangerous quality of curiosity. “I mean- It’s nothing; just some old closet with some of my old stuff.” Oikawa smiled, easily seeing through Iwaizumi’s lies. Oikawa prided himself on being able to decipher people’s emotions, and Iwaizumi’s face was pretty unconvincing at the moment. He decided to test his luck.

“Why’s it locked then?” he asked, watching Iwaizumi’s eyes as he tried to scramble to form an answer. He saw as they flashed between confusion and anger, eventually settling on the latter.

“Just leave it,” he spat, his face and voice taking on a menacing quality. Oikawa just nodded, withdrawing from the conversation, though he wasn’t content with the answer. _Who was this guy?_ he thought _. Why was he keeping so many secrets?_

Iwaizumi finished his meal quickly, handing the plate to Oikawa as he rearranged his pillows. Oikawa left the room, but not before he was able to secretly snag a ring of keys off of his nightstand. He’d seen Iwaizumi use the many keys to lock parts of the barn and cottage, he figured that one of them might be able to help him with the mysterious door as well. If Iwaizumi wouldn't help him, then he’d find the truth for himself.

He closed Iwaizumi’s door softly, moving quietly to the end of the hallway where the large door stood. He fingered through the keys, the pieces of metal jangling as they moved against each other. He cursed silently as he sorted through the ones that he had seen Iwaizumi use already. He took one of the keys and pushed it into the hole, shaking it around and turning briefly before pulling it out. Not the right one. He searched again for a different key, each time rattling it around only to find that it didn’t match. 

He reached the last key on the ring, pushing it into the lock. He twisted and found the same resistance that he had with the other keys. In frustration he yanked it to the side once more, hearing what sounded like a faint click. His eyes widened as he reached for the knob excitedly, turning it and hearing another metallic click as the old door was finally unlocked. Oikawa pulled on the knob, the door falling open as he did so. Dust poured out of the room in a thick cloud, forcing Oikawa to cover his mouth to avoid coughing. As the dust cleared, settling on the floor, Oikawa lifted his gaze to where a staircase shot up from behind the door. _Some closet_ … he thought as he took a lantern from one of the walls, needing light to see into the windowless stairway. 

He stepped forward, pausing for a moment. _Did he really want to do this? What if something really bad was up here?_ He swallowed, trying to calm himself as he started up the steps. He found that he had to take his steps very slowly, as the old wood beneath him tended to creak violently. He couldn’t risk waking Iwaizumi and was thus forced to creep up the stairs, carefully moving one foot at a time.

Thankfully, the steps numbered few and Oikawa reached the top in decent time. The smell of old books hit him first and he breathed in deeply, reminiscing about the vast libraries of the palace. It had been so long since he had been surrounded by such a lovely aroma and he opened his eyes, somewhat confused as to why Iwaizumi would want to hide such an amazing library. But as his eyelids lifted, his eyes didn’t only meet sprawling cases with stacks of books. Alongside the piles of books, there were bottles and pens with papers strewn haphazardly over desks and tables. On one of the tables lay an interesting contraption with planets and stars attached to metal rings. Maps and charts hung up on the walls while various jars sat along shelves. 

It was a lovely yet peculiar space, a charming little work area. Oikawa smiled as he moved towards one of the desks, picking up one of the open books, wiping away the dust to read the words. The page had many drawings on it, diagrams of the stars and planets. As he flipped through the book, he found that other pages were covered in pictures of odd plants and fungi. He closed the book, squinting as he tried to read the book’s title in the darkness. As he held his lantern closer, he could just barely make out the gold embossing on the book’s cover. _‘Common Magic: A Guide to the Mystical Properties of Everyday Life,_ ’ it read. Oikawa set it back down on the desk. He had never read such a book in the castle’s library, _maybe it was rare? Maybe all of these books were rare_ , he thought. He moved to another shelf, eagerly pulling out another book and looking at the title. This one read: _‘Planetary Alignments and Stellar-References.’_ His face twisted in confusion. _What was that supposed to mean?_ He put it back on the shelf as he traced his fingers over the spines of the surrounding books. 

_‘Herb Gardens and Green Magic’..._

_‘Common Protections and Banishments’..._

_“Forest Spirits and Nymphs of the Northwoods’..._

Oikawa sucked in a shaky breath as he read the last title: _‘Curses and Malevolent Magic.’_ This was no library, it was a mage’s workshop. He felt the telltale sign of fear begin to creep into his body, settling heavily in his chest. The walls suddenly felt too close, restricting and holding him still in that moment. _What did this mean?_ He backed away from the shelf as his mind raced to try and find any kind of explanation for this. _Why didn’t Iwaizumi want him to see this?_ He didn’t realize that his retreating footsteps hadn’t stopped until he bumped into a desk, startling himself and shaking a necklace to the ground, clattering loudly as it hit the wood. He bent down, cringing and silently hoping that the noise hadn’t woken Iwaizumi who was currently asleep below him. He reached for the leather cord, bringing the piece of jewelry up from the floor. Dangling from the string was an intricate metal charm, the design was oddly familiar, though Oikawa couldn’t place it. 

As he held it, swaying back and forth, he contemplated his discovery. He hadn’t thought of magic since that fateful night in the forest when Iwaizumi had told him of the mage’s untimely death. But now… _No_ , he thought, _the mage was dead and the cobwebs on these books certainly prove that_ . But why didn’t Iwaizumi want him to see this, why was he so secretive? _Did Iwaizumi even know that he was living in a mage’s house?_ It didn’t make any sense. Oikawa took one last look at the necklace before stuffing it into his pocket. He stood and lifted his lantern from a stack of books. He moved to the stairs, catching one last glimpse of the mysterious room. He closed the door behind him, locking it as he did so, finding that some of his difficulty lay in the rust that had accumulated on the handle and inside the lock. With one last rough twist of the key, the door was locked again.

For the rest of the day, Oikawa resumed his daily chores. He watered and weeded the garden, fed the horses, cooked the meals. By the end of the day, he had nearly forgotten about the necklace in his pocket, only remembering it as it pressed against his hip as he bent down to pick up a basket of laundry. He had to figure out what to do with it. _Should he even bother to tell Iwaizumi?_ It’s not like he was up there often, he wouldn’t even notice its disappearance. But the voice in his head was gnawing at him, pestering him to find the truth. It was a nasty voice, a curious one that had gotten him into plenty of trouble as a child. He’d never had enough strength to resist it, and this time was no different.

As he fixed the evening meal, he pondered the best way to go about confronting Iwaizumi. He was still thinking as he took a plate up the stairs, opening the bedroom door and walking over to the bed of the injured man. He set the plate down and leaned against a shelf in the corner of the room. Oikawa nodded as Iwaizumi thanked him for the meal, digging in and eating the food graciously.

Iwaizumi noticed that Oikawa was staring at him, looking up from his food to meet the other’s gaze. His brown eyes seemed to stare not only at him but at something beyond like he was lost in thought. He had noticed before that Oikawa’s eyes were large and deep; their color easily able to capture anyone’s attention. Iwaizumi found himself lost in them a few times from across the table when they had shared a meal or played cards. Usually, his eyes were the color of the rich brown soil of the garden or the rough bark of the cedar trees at the edge of the gate. Now, they seemed darker, lost almost. It made Iwaizumi uneasy to see them in such a state. He waved his hand at Oikawa, trying to draw his unsettling gaze back to reality.

“Oh, sorry,” Oikawa said quietly, nervously tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear. “Just thinking.” He paused for a moment, trying to choose his next words wisely. He took a deep breath, deciding to speak now while he still had a chance. “What do you know about magic?”

Iwaizumi’s eyes widened and then narrowed questioningly. “Why do you ask?”

Oikawa laughed at his tentative answer. Such a response wasn’t entirely out of the ordinary. Magic was a taboo subject in many parts of the kingdom. “Just wondering, I’ve been doing lots of reading lately. I hear that this very forest has lots of mystical qualities.”

Iwaizumi nodded, not offering anything else to the conversation. He seemed withdrawn about the subject and Oikawa was determined to find out why.

“Do you… know anything about that?” Oikawa prodded. 

“Why do you want to know?” Iwaizumi’s tone sounded eerily similar to a growl. Not wanting to go too far, Oikawa tried to backpedal.

“Just curious,” he said, playing with his hands anxiously. Iwaizumi didn’t buy it though and continued his own questioning.

“Really, because it sounds like you're looking for something,” Iwaizumi said, a bitter undertone lacing the statement. 

Oikawa scoffed. “I’m not looking for anything,” his own voice challenging the mood of Iwaizumi’s. He began to pace, trying to decide whether or not to leave the room. He was getting that feeling again, like the walls were closing in, restricting him and locking his legs in place.

“Is that why you keep asking?”

“Is that why you’re getting defensive?” Oikawa fired back, staring at Iwaizumi intensely.

“I’m not getting defensive, just let it go. It’s not a big deal,” said Iwaizumi, rolling his eyes annoyedly.

“If it’s not a big deal, then just tell me.” Both of their voices were raised, gaining a dangerous note. Under the pressure of it all, Iwaizumi was the first to crack.

“Tell you what!?,” he snarled, watching as Oikawa’s face took on an equally angry expression. Frustrated, Oikawa joined him in breaking down, losing his scrupulously-crafted composure.

“About this!” Oikawa reached into his pocket, retrieving the necklace and throwing it at Iwaizumi’s bed. Iwaizumi reached around, grabbing for the item tangled in his sheets. He wrapped his hands around a cord, pulling it up to examine the significance of the string. At the end was a dangling metal pendant with twisting carving and inscriptions. Iwaizumi recognized it immediately, his blood beginning to boil at the sight of the small piece of jewelry.

“Where… did you get this?” He asked bitterly, his voice going eerily quiet. Oikawa had half a mind to think that it was a peaceful tone, but he knew better than that. This anger was different, it was cold and sharp. He shuddered as he remembered the same tone being used by his father, the king, so many months ago.

“Your ‘closet’ at the end of the hallway.” _But it was locked…_ Iwaizumi’s eyes darted over to his nightstand where his keys usually lay. They were nowhere to be found; He must’ve taken them. Iwaizumi swallowed hard, trying in vain to quell his rage.

“So you show up here unannounced, beg for me to let you stay, steal my keys, and go through all of my stuff… I’ll tell you Oikawa, you’ve got some nerve.” Iwaizumi’s green eyes had a piercing aspect to them now, freezing Oikawa in his tracks. But, as Iwaizumi was soon to find out, Oikawa was never shut up for long. His brown eyes flashed with fury, a blazing fire burning in his heart.

“‘Some nerve!’” he spat, repeating Iwaizumi’s words mockingly. “I’ve fed you and tended to you for a week because your dumbass went out in the forest and almost died. I sewed you up and bandaged you, I cleaned the blood from your near-lifeless body, and yet you have the audacity to hide from me and push me away…” Oikawa was near-screaming now, a hysterical note to his voice as the volume continued to increase.

“‘Some nerve’, you tell me, for coming here and fixing up this dump that you live in, for feeding you and cleaning your clothes. ‘Some nerve’ for traveling half-way across this god-forsaken country to find someone only to be told by some stranger in the forest that they’ve died years ago. ‘Some nerve’ for giving up everything I ever had to wander out in the cold and darkness in search of the impossible,” Oikawa cried, noticing that Iwaizumi’s image was starting to blur. He touched his sleeve to his cheek, pulling it away to find wet droplets adorning the fabric. _How stupid he must look, how tired and desperate._

Iwaizumi sat in silence on the bed, taken aback by Oikawa’s rant. He had little idea of anything that the other was talking about. But the despair in the other’s usually-serene brown eyes was palpable. Something twisted in Iwaizumi’s heart, clenching at the hot tears that streaked down Oikawa’s face.

“Oikawa, I-”

“No,” the other replied, waving his hand. “I’m just, I don’t understand why you don’t trust me,” he explained. Iwaizumi opened his mouth, only to find that the words had left him. _What was he supposed to say?_ “What is that? What are you, Iwaizumi?” Oikawa asked in a soft voice, all previous aggression was gone, replaced instead with genuine but fearful curiosity. There was a certain sadness in his voice as well. One that made Iwaizumi’s heart clench.

Iwaizumi stared at the necklace in his hand, tracing his fingers over the leather cord. It was a familiar trinket, one that he’d seen thousands, probably millions of times. The first time that he’d seen the necklace, he was but ten years old. He had been wandering around the city, getting lost in the bustling market that his mother worked at. He had tears in his eyes when he had bumped into the legs of a robed gentleman in the square. The man had turned to him, the necklace dangling from his neck as he bent over to extend a hand to the boy. The man had guided Iwaizumi back to his mother, making sure to offer one last smile before disappearing back into the writhing mass of bodies that moved about the streets.

It was years later when Iwaizumi saw it for the second time. That day was a rainy one, cold and miserable. He had wandered back and forth through the city, trying to find shelter in any of the shops. None would let him enter, fearing that the grimy orphan would steal something from their shelves. At last, he had reached a shop that would take him in, letting him pass through the grand wooden doors. On the inside, there were hanging herbs and pictures all over the walls. Iwaizumi looked up to the man who had let him in. He had the same necklace and wrinkly, smiling face as he had all those years ago. His joyous face shifted though, once he saw the state of the boy in front of him.

“Why do you come here?” he had asked. Iwaizumi had shamefully looked away, not wanting to admit any details of his life. He had resorted to theft and violence after his mother had died, leaving him homeless on the streets of the vast city. The mage took notice of this, leading him to a seat and fetching a kettle with which to boil tea. He gave Iwaizumi a cup, waiting for a moment before asking again.

“I have nowhere else, your shop is the only one that I’ve been let into,” Iwaizumi had answered. His eyes wandered back to the man’s chest, finding the necklace once more.

“Why not go back to your mother-”

“She’s dead.” The man’s eyes widened at the young boy’s words, passing through shock and sympathy in an instant. He pondered what this meant for a moment and began to inquire further, learning that Iwaizumi had not seen a bed, much less a proper meal, in years. He had let the boy stay the night, giving him a spare room in the back of the shop to sleep in. In the morning, he offered to let Iwaizumi work there in exchange for food and a room. The young boy was slightly suspicious, but it was the most promising situation he had been in for a while and there was no way he was going to pass it up.

The third time he’d seen the necklace, he was walking through the shop, climbing a ladder to reach the drying herbs in the rafters. He was a strong boy now, a lad of fifteen years, and was well-suited to life in the shop. The man had appeared from his own quarters to find Iwaizumi sorting through the jars and bottles on the tall shelves, smiling as he observed. He called the boy over, watching as he carefully disentangled himself from the ladder and dropped to the floor.

“Iwaizumi,” he said. “You understand my profession, yes?” Iwaizumi nodded, being witness to many of the man’s endeavors at work and on calls away from the shop. “You understand my age as well, I presume?” the man had joked, watching as Iwaizumi nodded once more. “I grow old and wise, but weak at the same time,” he had explained. “I will need someone to follow in my footsteps.” He had looked at Iwaizumi intensely after the last sentence. “I hope you would not object to my teachings, Iwaizumi.”

Iwaizumi remembered the fear and anxiety that had coursed through him at hearing those words. He remembered how frightened he had been, terrified of what such a job required. But the man seemed to notice his fear, smiling calmly and dismissing his worries. 

“You are a good boy Iwaizumi, you have great potential,” the old man had said. Iwaizumi couldn’t help the huge smile that had spread across his face; no one had ever told him that before. 

The last time that Iwaizumi had seen the necklace was two years ago. The night was dark and cold around him. He remembered clutching onto the body of the old man, sobbing in the dark woods, surrounded by the bodies of the slain bandits who had attacked them. He remembered how freely the blood flowed from the old man’s chest and how quickly the man had thrust the pendant into Iwaizumi’s hand, telling him to go on, to continue.

Iwaizumi raised his eyes from the necklace in his hand, gaze shifting over to Oikawa. Green eyes met brown and both feared for what would come next. 

“This,” Iwaizumi said, gulping down the fear bubbling up and into his voice. “Is a mage’s pendant, an insignia denoting allegiance to a faction or guild.” Oikawa’s mouth parted slightly, recalling a similar pattern on the robes of the court’s mages. Magic was a touchy subject throughout the kingdom and Oikawa was practically forbidden from learning anything of it. Only now did he regret never learning about the mages and the guilds.

“And I-” Iwaizumi started again, his eyes locked onto the ornate chunk of metal as if clinging to it for safety, for security. “I was given this necklace by my teacher…” Oikawa’s gaze shot up from where it was previously fixed on the floor, staring in disbelief at Iwaizumi’s words.

“Your… teacher-” Oikawa started, stumbling over his words.

“My teacher,” Iwaizumi confirmed. “My teacher… The Mage.”


	5. The Apprentice

“The Mage…” Oikawa said, repeating Iwaizumi’s words. He watched as the other man nodded solemnly. Oikawa found it rather difficult to read his emotions at the moment. Iwaizumi’s expression lay somewhere between fond nostalgia and a crippling sadness; Oikawa had never been witness to such a look. Iwaizumi continued to twist the thin cord between his fingers, watching as the pendant turned and flashed in the flickering light of the candlelit room.

“And that makes you…?” Oikawa inquired hesitantly. 

“An apprentice, or, a former one, technically,” Iwaizumi responded, his stare still vacant. Iwaizumi noticed the confused look on Oikawa’s face and remembered that Oikawa likely wasn’t aware of anything he was talking about. “That night in the forest,” he began to explain. “I told you that the man you were looking for was dead.” Oikawa nodded, he definitely remembered. He could almost feel the same sinking feeling swirling through his chest. “That man was my teacher.”

Oikawa looked on, perplexed by Iwaizumi’s confession. “What do you mean ‘former’?” he asked. 

“He’s dead, that wasn’t a lie,” Iwaizumi said plainly. Oikawa watched as Iwazumi’s gaze hollowed, like something inside was missing. “I was there, I watched it.” Oikawa’s eyes widened, surprised not only at the tragic nature of Iwaizumi’s words but at the bluntness of them as well.

“I- what happened?” Oikawa asked tentatively.

“The usual around here: bandits.” Iwaizumi’s response was bitter, an ache in his words that Oikawa knew all too well. A realization shuddered its way through Oikawa, shaking him to his core. 

“That's why you hunt them then…” he whispered, barely loud enough for Iwaizumi to make out the words. Iwaizumi clenched his fists in the sheet, a new wave of emotion surging through him.

“Not like I have anything better to do,” Iwaizumi said softly, a sullen tone to his voice. “The apprenticeship was everything to me, I had nothing else. That man raised me from nothing…” Iwaizumi paused as he felt his emotions choke his words. “And without him, I fell back to nothing.”

Oikawa stifled a gasp from leaving his throat. Iwaizumi’s words were so hopeless, so lifeless. It reminded Oikawa of his own words that day in the courtyard with Daichi. He hated how broken the man before him looked; he hated how much the image resembled himself. “But you have the books,” Oikawa pointed above them, referencing the space upstairs. There was no way Iwaizumi would give up this easily, not the Iwaizumi he knew. “You have the charts and the pictures and-”

“It doesn’t matter!” Iwaizumi shouted, startling Oikawa into silence. “I’m not trained,” he continued, the tone of his voice growing more depressing with each word. “I can’t do anything like he did. Trust me, I’ve tried before and it never turns out well…”

“But what’s stopping you from learning?” Oikawa asked. Iwaizumi certainly had the resources to learn, even without a real teacher. There were plenty of instructions and references in the few pages that Oikawa had flipped through; certainly, Iwaizumi could learn it. He had no doubt that Iwaizumi was determined enough to do it, he was certainly headstrong in everything else he did.

“I can’t…” Iwaizumi’s last few words trailed off, falling short of Oikawa’s ears. 

“You can’t what?”

“...Read it,” he said, an ashamed tone to his voice. He’d only been taught to read in the common tongue, not the ancient script that was used in the spellbooks. He remembered the old mage telling him about the language one day. It was well-known throughout the guilds, but secretive to the public, making it the perfect method for hiding spells and enchantments. He was in the middle of learning when the mage had passed, rendering everything in the collection useless.

“You can’t?” Oikawa looked at the man for a second, stunned at the fact that the writing in the books was foreign to him. The prince had been taught multiple languages as a child and the ancient script in the books upstairs was nothing new. He saw Iwaizumi’s head hang shamefully at hearing his words and immediately regretted them. This wasn’t the first time he’d had to come to terms with his royal upbringing and its differences to the common folk’s. He opened his mouth, readying himself to say something when the words died on his tongue, unsure of how to mend his previous statement.

Iwaizumi had always been ashamed of his basic education. He’d never received proper instruction and had only learned to read on his own after being orphaned. He knew very little about arithmetic and the sciences, though he loved looking through the mage’s old books. After a while, he had stopped flipping through the pages, embarrassed whenever the mage would ask him to recite something. The mage had noticed how he had confusedly stared at the words and offered to teach him. It was a slow process though, a frustrating one that left both of them with short tempers some days.

Then, the man was gone. Murdered in a forest, never to meet Iwaizumi again. He remembered how the man, with his last gasping breath, had thrust the necklace into his hands. He’d begged him to go on, to learn more, and to continue his practice. But after the mage’s death, the studies became too much to bear. And with the painful memory of the old man’s death still fresh in his mind, he’d locked away all the books, too broken to flip through their infuriatingly beautiful pages again.

“Oh,” Oikawa started. “I thought- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you,” Oikawa said, apologizing for the insensitive words.

“No, It’s fine,” Iwaizumi said, lifting his head to look at Oikawa again. Suddenly, a thought crossed his mind. _How did Oikawa know what was in the books?_ “Wait… can you?” A look of mild confusion passed over the brown-haired man’s face, prompting Iwaizumi to clarify his question. “The words, can you read them?” He asked incredulously, in disbelief that the man in front of him would be educated enough to read such an obscure script. It was rare even for nobles and high-borns to know such a language, so how would Oikawa know how to read it?

Iwaizumi watched as Oikawa’s face flushed a little bit, the blood rising to his usually-pale cheeks. He watched Oikawa nod his head. Iwaizumi’s eyes widened. _How was he able to read it?_ He must’ve had good schooling to be able to read such a language. 

Oikawa ran his fingers through his hair nervously as he spoke. “I’m not incredible at it but… I could try to teach you if you wanted.” Iwaizumi considered the offer. _Would he actually be able to teach him? And if so, could he continue his apprenticeship?_ He recalled the old man’s dying wish as he gave him the necklace. _“You must go on, you must continue, even without me…”_ Iwaizumi shut his eyes, trying to block out the painful memory. He inhaled deeply before looking up and nodding at the other. 

“What’s the harm in trying?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Reading was hard and there were too many symbols. This was Iwaizumi’s conclusion after a week of picking up his studies again. It was just as hard as he had remembered. He was miserable for most of the lessons that Oikawa so eagerly gave, not that the latter seemed to notice. Oikawa was wrapped up in the mysticality of the books, admiring the exquisite knowledge that they contained. Often, when Iwaizumi got bored, he would just stare at Oikawa, watching him excitedly flip through the pages and gawk at the drawings and diagrams within. He found it amusing (or adorable?) how Oikawa’s eyes narrowed when he was caught up in the words of the ancient manuscripts.

“I hate this,” Iwaizumi groaned one day. He had just mixed up another letter for what felt like the thousandth time that day. Oikawa merely rolled his eyes, unimpressed with Iwaizumi’s lack of perseverance. “Come on let’s take a break,” Iwaizumi begged, slumping to his side to lay on a pile of books that Oikawa had set out for him to read. Oikawa huffed, closing his book and standing up.

“You complain an awful lot Iwa-chan. I’m tempted to abandon your tutoring and just come up here on my own.” He gestured to the workspace around them as he shuffled across the wood to reach out to Iwaizumi, taking his hand and pulling the other man up. They’d been working here in the attic for a few days now that Iwaizumi was permitted to leave his bed and start walking again. His side still hurt, especially when he had to bend over and especially right now when Oikawa was tugging him up from the ground. He tried his best to mask his pain, fearing that Oikawa would lock him in his bedroom for another week.

“Thanks,” he said, wincing as he steadied himself on his feet. Oikawa nodded, heading towards the stairs, watching attentively as Iwaizumi carefully followed him. They moved downstairs, Iwaizumi rummaging through the cabinets in search of a snack to tide him over until dinner later that evening. His stomach growled impatiently as his eyes found nothing in the cabinets.

“There’s nothing in here,” he grumbled to himself. Oikawa heard this and turned from where he sat at the table to focus on the grumpy man in the kitchen. He sighed as he placed the book on the table and stood, walking towards the other. 

“I could make something if you want,” he offered. He looked through the cabinets himself, examining their emptiness. He shrugged as he closed the door, reaching instead for the bag of flour on the countertop. _Bread was simple enough_ , he thought as he scooped the flour into a bowl, mixing in the starter and water. Iwaizumi watched him as he kneaded the dough into a ball and placed it back in the bowl, covering it with a towel.

“It should be ready to bake in a few hours,” Oikawa explained, watching as Iwaizumi’s face shifted moodily. 

“Hours?” He asked, a hint of a whine in his voice. Oikawa had to fight to stifle a laugh at the childlike nature of his words. It was such a different side of him than Oikawa had known just a few weeks earlier. He found that he was pleasantly surprised by Iwaizumi’s playfulness, finding joy in the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed.

“Yes, _hours,_ ” he said, drawing out the last word mockingly. He laughed, “You’ve never baked bread before?”

“Of course I have,” the other growled. He walked towards the bowl, pushing past Oikawa and removing the towel from the bowl. Oikawa watched as Iwaizumi produced a thin knife and began to cut a peculiar design on the bread. He watched from over the shorter man’s shoulder, perplexedly admiring the swirls and lines on the bread’s surface. Iwaizumi muttered some words in a strange language, one that Oikawa had never heard spoken, not even by the mages at the court. 

Iwaizumi backed away from the bowl, lifting his hands in a conductive manner. He motioned towards the bowl, where to Oikawa’s amazement, the dough began to rise in seconds, faster than anything he’d ever seen. Iwaizumi smirked as he dropped his hands, amused at Oikawa’s shocked face. 

“How did- how did you do that,” he laughed excitedly, rushing towards the bowl to admire the dough up close.

Iwaizumi wiggled his fingers at Oikawa, smiling as he said, “Magic.” Oikawa placed the dough inside the oven, shutting the door and turning back to Iwaizumi. 

“That was amazing! Where did you learn that!?” he asked incredulously. 

“The mage, of course. It was one of the first little tricks I learned,” he explained. “There’s a lot of little enchantments and spells I use around here from time to time, that’s just one of them.” Oikawa pondered that for a second, wondering about what else might’ve gone faster with Iwaizumi’s tricks. 

“You wouldn’t, by chance, have any spells that wash the dishes would you?” he joked, watching Iwaizumi grin and join him in the light laughter. The tan man sat down at the table, picking up Oikawa’s book and focusing on the lines and dots that made up the ancient script. He sounded out the words slowly, picking up speed as he turned the pages. Oikawa watched contentedly from the kitchen, staring at the young apprentice as the smell of baking bread wafted throughout the cottage.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Iwaizumi whispered a few words, waving his hand as he did. The symbols on the floor around him began to lift, hovering in the air and shimmering. He flexed his hands one finger at a time and marveled at how the shapes twisted and flew about the space around him. He toyed with his hands a bit more, testing how it affected the glowing shapes that hovered around him.

Oikawa stared curiously from across the small room, watching as the floating shapes made shadows dance across the tanned face of the other man. He watched as Iwaizumi squinted, furrowing his brow in an effort to concentrate the energy around him. Iwaizumi brought his hands closer, forming the light and shapes around him into a dense, glowing ball. A smile made its way onto his face as he glanced over at Oikawa, who was trying to act unimpressed by the spell. Contrary to Oikawa’s belief, he was rather bad at acting and his excitement was palpable to the other.

“Hey,” Iwaizumi said, getting Oikawa’s attention. “What should I make with it?” He looked down at his palms where the swirling ball of light lied. This was the farthest he’d ever gotten with the spell and he was pretty proud of it, even if it was a shapeless blob at the current moment. He remembered how the mage had shown him how to transform the ball into various things. Iwaizumi also remembered how frustrated he had been when after he tried the spell for the first time, he couldn't even manage to get the shapes and sigils off of the ground. But now, the ball of energy shone brightly in his hands, and he was determined to do something with it.

“Hmm,” Oikawa thought, considering Iwaizumi’s question. He watched as the symbols danced around him, fluttering in a way similar to wingbeats. An idea struck him. “A bird.” Iwaizumi nodded, using his fingers to stretch the ball, forming different shapes and lines. Oikawa watched intently as the ball began to take shape, feathers sprouting from it along with legs and a beak. Iwaizumi smiled and chanted a few last words over the thing before releasing it. Both men watched in delight as the bird flew around the room, eventually finding a perch on Oikawa’s head. 

“It had better not poop on me,” he grumbled halfheartedly, clearly not at all upset by the creature or the fact that it had seemed to take a liking to him. He was amazed by the progress that Iwaizumi had made in his spellwork, especially after just a few weeks. Recently, he’d caught Iwaizumi smuggling books down from the attic and into his room, reading and studying them for hours on end. Oikawa tried to reprimand him, telling him how he needed rest and that he shouldn’t pull all-nighters just to finish another translation. But despite his nagging, Oikawa was happy that Iwaizumi was so enamored with his studies. It reminded him of how curious he had been as a child when he’d first learned to read. He had gone everywhere around the palace asking for different manuscripts and cookbooks to practice his skills. The memories caused a bittersweet, nostalgic feeling to wash over him every time he saw Iwaizumi huddled up in a chair, eyes boring into the pages as if trying to burn the ink away.

Iwaizumi saw the bird flutter down to Oikawa’s arms, pecking at the glove of his left hand. The creature seemed intrigued by the fabric and began to pull it away.

“OW!” Oikawa exclaimed as he swatted at it. Much to his surprise, the bird dissolved instantly, tendrils of energy curling into the air and dissipating like smoke. Oikawa’s mouth hung open for a second as his wide eyes flicked over to Iwaizumi. “I- I’m sorry,” he said, trying in vain to hold back a nervous laugh. Iwaizumi joined him, giggling softly. 

“Don’t worry,” Iwaizumi said. “It was only the first try, I’m sure I’ll be able to come up with something better than a bird next time.” His eyes glanced down to the open book in front of him. He pulled at a strand of ribbon that marked one of the pages, turning to a different spell. “Besides, there’s a new one I want to try,” he said, holding up the book so that Oikawa could read it.

“ _Protection Spell for the Home_ ,” Oikawa read aloud. “Interesting, what do you want that for?”

“Oh nothing in particular, just making sure nothing bad gets in here,” Iwaizumi explained. He started to look at the spell again, glancing over the directions. 

“We’ll need some more ingredients,” he said, looking up to the herb rack above one of the cabinets. “But the good news is that all of them can be found in the Northwoods!” He looked excitedly at Oikawa, who seemed just as eager.

“We could go for a ride tomorrow afternoon,” Oikawa suggested. Iwaizumi nodded happily as he made a few notes in the margins of the book. “Important herbs for an important spell,” he continued as he read over the directions of the spell. “I wouldn’t want to be living in an unprotected house.”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi added. “Who knows, maybe it’ll protect me from mysterious strangers that follow me through the woods and trespass onto my property.” His face was straight for a moment as his gaze met Oikawa’s. The stony look didn’t last long though and he broke into laughter at seeing the surprise etched into Oikawa’s face.

“Yeah, that’d be awful,” Oikawa joked. They laughed for a moment before they both stood, closing their books and snuffing out the candles. They made for the stairs, descending and closing the ornate door behind them once they reached the bottom. Oikawa noticed a small journal in Iwaizumi’s hand as he walked down the hallway to his bedroom.

“Don’t stay up too late,” Oikawa yawned, opening his door. Iwaizumi just nodded, rolling his eyes and smiling slightly as he disappeared into his own room for the night. 

The next day was filled with restlessness. Even the horses seemed to understand the energy of the two men as they prepared for their adventure. They mounted and set off into the woods, determined to find the missing herb. 

They seemed to ride for hours on the many paths that snaked their way through the forest. As the sun climbed higher in the sky, they both became rather thankful for the dense canopy protecting them from the harsh heat. They’d checked in multiple groves and clearings, searching through the underbrush for the elusive plant, finding nothing. 

_Some luck we’ve had_ , thought Oikawa as he remounted his horse after searching in yet another clearing. He looked again at the bushes, referencing the small drawing that Iwaizumi had given him as a reference. As he suspected, nothing was there. He sighed and urged his horse forward on the path. They continued to ride side by side through the woods, their chatter drowning out the growls of their stomachs as lunchtime approached. 

“God, I’m starving,” Iwaizumi grumbled as he spurred his horse forward, edging closer to another grove for them to search in. “I don’t suppose you packed anything though,” he smiled as he joked with Oikawa.

“No, I guess I didn’t anticipate our little adventure lasting until midday,” Oikawa huffed in mock annoyance. He watched as the trees swayed with the breeze that passed over them. It was certainly welcome, as the heat of the summer had become unbearable over the past few weeks. It was one of the reasons that Oikawa preferred staying inside. He had been relieved when Iwaizumi was finally well enough to pick up his outdoor chores again.

“Neither did I,” Iwaizumi laughed. “But we’re too deep in the forest to give up now.” Oikawa rolled his eyes as they made their way down the path, Iwaizumi leading the way. He stared ahead to where the grove had just become visible. The trees around it were tall and bowed invitingly at the entrance. It reminded Oikawa of the palace orchards, although the trees were never so tall as these. _What would it be like to climb one of these_ , he thought as his eyes traced over the soaring branches overhead. 

He continued to lose himself in the maze that was the tree branches when a sharp pain emanated from his hand. He dropped the reins, clutching at the gloved hand as he nervously pulled back the fabric to examine his hand. It was the curse again, spreading an unbearable heat through his fingers and past his wrist. He bit his lip as it intensified, not wanting to gain any attention from Iwaizumi who rode peacefully up ahead. He prayed that the sensation would stop but to no avail. It continued to ignite his blood, sending sparks flying through his veins. Spots began to dance in his vision as he slumped to one side. He watched as the forest floor seemed to come up to his head, hitting it with a thud as he fell from his horse, his vision finally blacking out.

“It’s this next one, right?,” Iwaizumi called to the man behind him, completely oblivious to the events that had just unfolded. He’d made Oikawa carry the map and wanted to check if this was the right place. He turned his head after hearing no response. “Hey dumbass, I asked you a ques-” He froze as he saw a seemingly lifeless Oikawa laying on the ground behind him. He hopped off of his horse, rushing over to the fallen man.

“Oikawa, Oikawa!” he yelled, getting no response from the unconscious man. He knelt beside him, looking at where he was gripping his hand. _Had he fallen on it?_ He felt the hand through the thin fabric, eyes widening as he drew his hand back; it was hot. He recalled how the mage had taught him to feel the area of an injury, and that if the area was warm, it was likely broken. _Had he really fallen on it that hard?_ Iwaizumi reached out the hand again, taking the fabric near the wrist and pulling down. A curious look donned his face as he saw what looked like another glove beneath the silky white one that he had begun to remove. He felt a wave of nausea come over him as he pulled the glove off completely, realizing that there was no other glove beneath; it was Oikawa’s skin. The entire hand was a charred mess and as Iwaizumi pulled up his sleeve, he found that the burn had made its way to Oikawa’s elbow.

He sucked in a shaky breath as he touched the area lightly, feeling the blazing skin beneath his fingers. His face went pale as he picked up the other man, slinging him over his shoulder and laying him across his horse. He shuddered, his body feeling cold even in the blistering heat surrounding them. He’d seen curses many times before, but none as powerful as this. His hands were trembling as he gripped the reins, urging the horses home as his Oikawa lay motionless behind him.


	6. The Journey

Iwaizumi rummages through the cabinets in the bathroom. He’s tearing open the small doors, ripping through the baskets to look for any bandages and salves for Oikawa’s arm. He is currently laying in his room, draped over the bed. Iwaizumi returns to his side with the meager medical supplies, unsure of what to do to help the unconscious man on the bed.

He pulls back his sleeve again, rolling it up his arm as he takes a nervous breath. He touches the burn gingerly, training his eyes on the face of the other, watching for any sign of discomfort. The skin beneath his fingers burned as if a fire had been lit under the blackened flesh. He doesn’t need to ask Oikawa what it is. He knows what it is; the mage had taught him enough to know what a curse looks like. But it was the reasoning behind the mark that shook Iwaizumi the most.  _ What could Oikawa have done to be cursed, especially in such a violent manner? _ Iwaizumi shuddered at the millions of horrible thoughts that began to flood his mind. 

He shook his head in a futile attempt to rid himself of such ideas. _ No, it didn’t make sense. Oikawa wasn’t a bad person, was he? _ He glanced down at the sleeping face that rested on the pillows; there was an air of innocence to the delicate curve of his brows and cheeks. Iwaizumi wasn’t often swayed by looks, but the angelic nature of Oikawa’s face made him wonder if the man could even hurt a fly, much less do anything half as horrible enough to deserve such a curse. 

Uncertain of how to address the wound, he left the bandages at the foot of the bed, vowing to return once Oikawa was awake. He stood, walking towards the doorway before his eyes darted back to the sleeping man. There was no denying his burning curiosity at the situation; Oikawa had to be hiding something. But despite the secrecy, Iwaizumi couldn’t seem to find it in himself to be angry. Instead, his eyes were filled with sorrow, a sadness overwhelming him as he watched the gentle rises and falls of the other’s chest. He sighed as he walked into the hallway. _Who are you, Oikawa?_ _What are you hiding?_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first thing that Oikawa feels as he opens his eyes is a pounding in his head. He rubs the side of his skull, remembering his nasty fall from his horse. As he opens his eyes groggily, he suddenly becomes aware of his surroundings, finding himself in his bed and not on the leaf-covered forest floor that he last remembered. How did he get here? His eyes wander around the room, finding himself to still be fully dressed in his riding clothes. He shifts, attempting to rise from the bed when he gasps in pain. He looks down to where the charred flesh of his hand grips at the sheets. His eyes widened in surprise as he saw his sleeve rolled up to his bicep, exposing the mark that had progressed to his elbow. 

He felt his stomach drop as he slowly connected the dots. Had Iwaizumi seen it? He felt his pulse skitter at the thought; he was starting to panic. Surely the man would be alarmed at seeing such a wound. His mind swirled with worried thoughts as he tried desperately to calm himself down. He became so absorbed in thought that he missed the noise of footsteps coming up the stairs. He managed to snap out of his anxious fog right as the door opened, revealing Iwaizumi with a tray of food.

It took a few moments for Iwaizumi to try to find the right words to say. He figured a greeting wouldn’t hurt. “Good morning,” he said as he walked to the bed, placing the tray down on the table. He noticed how rigidly Oikawa sat on the bed, clearly uncomfortable. Iwaizumi saw how Oikawa seemed to tuck his arm behind him, hiding it. “Do you need anything?” he asked, holding back a shudder as he remembered the wound on Oikawa’s arm. “For your um, for your arm-”

“What did you see?” The words were soft, barely audible enough for Iwaizumi to notice the interruption. Oikawa kept his eyes trained on the sheets, refusing to look at Iwaizumi, avoiding what he thought would be a fearful stare. Iwaizumi was silent as he took in the pitiful sight that was the brown-haired man before him. He was a shell of the kind friend that Iwaizumi had come to know, and it shook him to his core to be confronted with such a hopeless image. His silence, however, only served to falsely confirm Oikawa’s suspicions.

“What did you see?” He asked the question again, his voice cracking on the last words. He gulped as he tried to keep his emotions at bay; the last thing he needed right now was a breakdown. Iwaizumi sat on the edge of the bed as he recalled the sickening sight of Oikawa’s wound.

“You’re burned,” he replied simply, still not quite sure of the nature of such a curse. He watched Oikawa chuckle bitterly as he nodded in confirmation. Iwaizumi waited a moment more before speaking again, treading lightly. “But,” he began. “It’s more than that isn’t it?” His tone was questioning, though he needed no answer.

Oikawa finally lifted his piercing stare from the blankets to Iwaizumi’s face, meeting the other’s green eyes with an impossible intensity. The mere look that Oikawa was giving him was enough to answer Iwaizumi’s question. He watched as Oikawa’s head tipped forward and then back again, nodding. He buried his face in his arms for a second, as if shielding himself from the inevitable. He sighed and turned to Iwaizumi.

“I take it that you know what this is,” Oikawa said, gesturing to his injured hand. His eyes traced over the ravaged skin as he spoke. Oikawa had given up on the idea that Iwaizumi was completely clueless. He knew that Iwaizumi had an inkling of what it was, he was an apprentice after all.

“It’s a curse, I know that much,” Iwaizumi replied. “But what I’m really curious about is what you must’ve done to be cursed like that.” He pointed to the marred hand that lay in Oikawa’s lap. “That’s not a simple curse, it’s ancie-”

“Ancient and powerful, yes, I’m aware,” Oikawa said, finishing the sentence for Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi’s eyes widened; how would Oikawa know anything about a curse like this? Especially if he’s not well-versed in magic.

“What did you do?” Iwaizumi asked, still unsure of the circumstances that led to such a horrendous curse. He was unprepared for a barking laugh that erupted from Oikawa.

“What did I do?” Oikawa’s laugh was filled not with jollity, but contempt instead. “I was born,” he said quietly as he averted his gaze to stare out the window.

“...Born?” 

“Yes, I was born. That’s when the curse kicked in,” Oikawa explained, reaching over for the food that Iwaizumi had brought him.

“Kicked in? Wait, that- that would mean you were cursed before you were born,” Iwaizumi said, trying to piece together Oikawa’s story. He watched Oikawa nod as he shoveled some of the toast into his mouth, clearly hungry after passing out and missing a few meals since the day before.

“I was born years after the curse was cast. I was fated to die before I was even alive,” said Oikawa, stabbing at a slice of bacon. Iwaizumi listened to him in disbelief; he’d never heard of such magic before. 

He shook his head. “That’s impossible,” he muttered. “You can’t curse something that doesn’t exist. You couldn't curse an unborn child; it’s not part of this world yet.” Iwaizumi racked his brain, trying to think of an answer to this mysterious situation.

“What do you mean?” Oikawa questioned. He still wasn’t aware of all the rules of magic so nothing that Iwaizumi was saying really made any sense to him.

“You couldn’t curse something that doesn’t exist in this realm, unborn children included.” Iwaizumi explained. Unless… A thought crossed his mind. “Wait, Oikawa, you wouldn’t happen to be the eldest child would you?” Iwaizumi recalled the infamous loophole taken by many sorcerers. 

“Yes,” Oikawa said. “And now that you mention that, my father did say something about a firstborn child. Lucky me…” Oikawa said sarcastically as he rolled his eyes.

“Your father… so he’s the one who’s responsible for this.”

“How’d you know?” Oikawa inquired, slightly unnerved by Iwaizumi’s immaculate guesswork.

“A firstborn curse,” Iwaizumi explained, “is designed to punish a child for its parent’s wrongdoings. It is widely frowned upon in the community of magic, though.” Iwaizumi was still curious though. What could Oikawa’s father have done to warrant such a curse?

“Pardon my intrusion, but what exactly did your father do?” It would’ve had to be something horrific, and Iwaizumi shivered as his mind raced through every possibility.

Oikawa froze at hearing Iwaizumi’s question. His mind flashed back to the horrible images planted in his mind by the last conversation he’d had with his father. He swallowed thickly as he found the words. “He burnt down a village,” Oikawa said solemnly. “There was only one person left alive by the end of it: the mage that cursed me.”

Iwaizumi felt almost paralyzed by dread imagining the scenario that Oikawa had just explained to him. How could anyone do such a thing? And as more thoughts poured into his head, more uneasiness began to flood his being. Yet another thought washed over him: How could Oikawa’s father burn down a village? How could he have the resources, the power?

“Oikawa,” he started, watching as the other man met his gaze. Oikawa felt time stand still as he anticipated the words that were to come from Iwaizumi’s mouth. “Who was your father, or rather, who is he?” And there it was. Oikawa felt himself sink into the bed below him as if weighed down by some invisible object. Oikawa never planned to tell Iwaizumi the truth; why would he need to know? But now he suspected Oikawa, he was wary of him, and there was nothing Oikawa hated more than seeing fear in people’s eyes as they looked at him. He hated that gaze, he hated that it was the same way that the people looked at his father. He wanted no connection to that tyrant, looks included.

Iwaizumi noticed the hesitation, watching as Oikawa took his lower lip between his teeth, chewing it nervously. “Oikawa,” he said again, urging the other to speak.

“The king,” Oikawa all but whispered. He said it so quietly that Iwaizumi had half a mind to believe that he misheard it. 

“The King…” Iwaizumi repeated, feeling the weight of the words on his tongue. “And that makes you…” He trailed off, lost in Oikawa’s large brown eyes that were concentrated on him. He felt his mouth go dry as he recognized those eyes. He recognized his lips and his nose and his brows. Iwaizumi’s mind produced a distant memory of him walking into town just a couple of months prior, seeing a missing poster with a royal portrait. “That makes you the crown prince.” Oikawa nodded, a sad smile adorning his face.

“Holy shit,” Iwaizumi whispered. “Holy shit!”

“You already said that,” Oikawa said, awkwardly trying to add some humor to the conversation.

“Shut up!” Iwaizumi yelled, making Oikawa flinch slightly at the sudden change in tone. “You’re the fucking crown prince and you never told me!” Oikawa breathed a sigh of relief when he realized that Iwaizumi wasn’t mad, but instead just exasperated at the fact that he’d been harboring the missing prince for a few months. 

“Wait, if you’re the crown prince, then your name isn’t-”

“Oh, it’s still Oikawa. That was my mother’s name; father kept it to make sure that the new queen wouldn’t take me as her own. He did it to make sure I never had a mother; he thought I was undeserving of one after I ripped my own open in childbirth,” Oikawa interjected. Iwaizumi’s lips parted in surprise, unaware of the drama that surrounded the court and the nobles. He was mostly unaware of royal affairs, so Oikawa’s past was entirely foreign to him.

It took a few moments for both of them to register what such a discovery meant. Oikawa was a prince, the son of a cruel king, cursed to die for his father’s misdeeds. And he’d hidden it all this time, the curse, his royal blood, everything. At once, the weight of Oikawa’s decisions hit Iwaizumi like a ton of bricks.

That night in the forest, when he’d nearly collapsed after Iwaizumi had told him of the mage’s death. That had been his only hope, dashed to pieces in the moonlight of a forest he barely knew. And the morning after, when he’d followed Iwaizumi to the cottage, pleading with him to stay. He recalled Oikawa’s words when they’d first met: ‘It’s not worth it to leave, I might as well stay here in the forest.’ Oikawa had given up his life at the palace in search of an impossible cure; he’d left everything, and with little resistance too. The realization almost dropped Iwaizumi to his knees. Oikawa had resigned himself to die here.

At that moment, their gaze met, communicating everything that words could not. Iwaizumi felt tears prick behind his eyes as he managed to string a few words together. “You came here to die?”

“I came here to be cured!” Oikawa said, hot tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. He raised his arm, looking at the blackened skin. The tears clouded his vision, threatening to spill over. How could he be so stupid! His father was right, he’d never find a cure. “But there is no cure,” he continued. “I was just too stupid to realize it.” 

“So you gave up!?” Iwaizumi all but screamed.

“I didn’t have a choice; I don’t have a choice! What am I supposed to do? Go back to that pathetic excuse for a king and live out my days in that prison that they call a palace!?” The tears were flowing freely down his face now, streaking his cheeks as they fell. His eyes burned with something more than anger, something deeper and filled with pain. “I tried, okay?” he said, wiping his eyes on the back of his sleeve. “I tried and I failed and I’m here now.”

The hurt in Oikawa’s voice was palpable; it made Iwaizumi’s heart clench in a way it never had before. But that pang of sadness gave way to his fierce determination. How could Oikawa just let go so easily? Iwaizumi wouldn’t stand for it. “You didn’t fail, though,” he said, ignoring how hard it was to push the words out from behind the lump in his throat. “You came here for the mage and he’s dead… but I’m still here. I- I can find something, there’s gotta be something out of all of the books up there, there has to be a way.” He was rambling now, thinking out loud about the ways to help Oikawa’s condition.

Oikawa stared at him in a mournful manner, something akin to pity, as he continued to list off ideas. It took Iwaizumi a second to realize that the other was saying nothing, preferring to look at him silently. They shared another knowing gaze before Oikawa spoke. “You can’t,” he starts. “I came here on the off chance that a trained mage could help me, there was no guarantee that even he could’ve fixed this.”

“Oikawa, you're dying.” Iwaizumi said plainly. “You have to at least try, you have to let me at least try.” He was begging at this point, pleading with Oikawa to cooperate. He couldn’t just sit back and helpless watch someone die, not again.

But Oikawa’s eyes were somber as he looked at Iwaizumi. “That’s too much, I- I couldn’t ask that of you,” he said, straining to get the words out. How ironic, he thought to himself, to come all this way to get better and refuse any treatment. How ironic that a stranger in the woods should care more for him than his own blood.

But it was Iwaizumi’s response that hit him the hardest. “You don’t have to ask,” Iwaizumi said in a hushed tone. “Don’t ask, just let me try.” And it was in that moment that the weight on Oikawa’s shoulders seemed to lift, carried away after a lifetime of struggle. He felt his heart warm, consoled by the words that had just poured out from Iwaizumi’s mouth. With tears in his eyes, he nodded; not asking, just accepting.

Iwaizumi spent the rest of the day in the attic poring over the seemingly-endless supply of books. He lost count of how many hours he had spent searching through countless pages. Even as the sun began to set, dipping below the horizon while painting the sky a brilliant red, he remained in the study. It was only after he heard a knock at the door from Oikawa that he realized the time. He sprung to his feet, gathering a handful of manuscripts in one arm as he bolted to the stairs, looking below to find Oikawa standing at the threshold.

“You aren’t supposed to be out of bed,” he said, narrowing his eyes at the other man.

“It’s only my arm, Iwa-chan. I can still stand,” Oikawa said, yawning as he turned to walk back down the hallway. Once he was out of view, Iwaizumi allowed himself to smile at the casual use of the nickname. He had become rather fond of it, not that he’d ever tell Oikawa. His stomach growled as he reached the edge of the stairs and he realized that Oikawa must be starving the same as he. He rubbed his eyes tiredly; what an awful nurse he was! He was supposed to be helping Oikawa! Closing the door behind him, he called out to the other man as he shuffled downstairs to the main level. “Oikawa, I’ll make dinner in a while if you're hungry.”

A laugh from the kitchen startled him somewhat. “Like hell, you will,” said Oikawa from the counter, slicing up some bread. He giggled to himself at the comment, confusing and annoying Iwaizumi.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He listened as Oikawa’s giggles continued to bubble out of his throat. 

“I think you know exactly what I mean, Iwa-chan…” 

“Oh come on, my cooking isn’t that bad,” Iwaizumi said in slight annoyance, no real bite to his words. He sat down at the dining table, placing his books in a small pile in the center.

“It most definitely is,” said Oikawa, finding amusement in their banter. “Anyways,” he said before Iwaizumi could object any further. “Let’s eat, I’m starving.” He produced a few slices of bread along with jam and butter on a small plate, setting it down on the table that Iwaizumi had plopped down at. Oikawa noticed the books and raised a brow at Iwaizumi.

“What are all of these for?” he asked, words slightly muffled by the bread in his mouth. He recognized a few of them from the many shelves that lined the walls of the study upstairs.

“Research,” Iwaizumi replied. He’d spent the day sorting through stacks of the books, finding a few that might be worth a look. As he’d glanced over the pages, he became increasingly aware of the severity of Oikawa’s curse. Barely any of the mage’s old books had anything about firstborn curses, so Iwaizumi certainly had his work cut out for him. 

Iwaizumi picked up a piece of the bread, taking a bite before opening one of the books, continuing his search. Oikawa watched proudly as he flipped through pages, remembering how frustrated Iwaizumi had been when he’d first learned to read the words just a few weeks before. He watched as he placed his finger down on one of the pages, marking it as he flitted his eyes up to Oikawa. There was an anxious look in his eyes, prompting Oikawa to be slightly concerned.

“Come look at this,” Iwaizumi said, motioning the other over to his side of the table. Oikawa did as he was told and came to peek over Iwaizumi’s shoulder, focusing on the page that Iwaizumi was on. “I think it could help, “ said Iwaizumi, looking down through the directions. “It says that it covers everything from minor hexes to familial curses, so it should work for, well, whatever it is that you have on your arm.”

Oikawa looked at the pages suspiciously and then up at Iwaizumi. “You think so?” He had reason to be uncertain of all of this. He barely even knew where this book came from, much less the reputation of the spell itself. Iwaiuzmi seemed to notice his hesitation.

“Oikawa, I want to help,” he said in the same pleading tone he’d used earlier. “I mean, in the end, it is up to you… but if you don’t mind me trying, I’d be happy to do so.” It was the second time today that Iwaizumi had said something so soft and sincere and Oikawa couldn’t help but give in to Iwaizumi’s request. He nodded to show his approval, watching as a smile curled onto the tan man’s face.

“Good,” he said as he turned his attention back to the book. “Because there’s one small problem.” He pointed to a small list on the page labeled ‘ingredients’. “We’re missing an ingredient, and it’s not easy to find.” He flipped to the back of the book to a map that showed the location of the different ingredients. Oikawa gulped as he watched Iwaizumi trace his way up the map to a faraway spot in the mountains.

“It should be here,” he said pointing to a dot on the map. “Could be a small forest or valley, but the map doesn’t say.” He flipped through a few more pages, trying in vain to get any more information on the location. This was risky and Iwaizumi knew it. What if they got lost? What if something happened to Oikawa?

“Fine,” Oikawa sighed, distracting Iwaizumi from his morbid thoughts. A confused expression made its way across Iwaizumi’s face; was he really up for this?

“Are you sure? I don’t want to force you-”

“Yes,” said Oikawa exasperatedly. He picked up another slice of bread as he looked at Iwaizumi with a serious face. “I’m sure.”

Iwaizumi nodded. He looked back at the pages, tracing his way along a path to the destination. It was long and even the shortest route cut through the mountains in a treacherous manner. It would take weeks at best to get there.

He sighed, trying to find a way to tell Oikawa. “So based off of the map, I’d say that it’s a few weeks’ journey at least.” He paused and watched as a vexed expression came over Oikawa. “When do you want to leave?”

Oikawa gave it some thought and then looked down to his arm, now covered by the sleeve that he had unrolled earlier. He took the fabric between his fingers and rolled it up, exposing the burnt flesh. Iwaizumi stared in disbelief as he saw that the mark had progressed past his elbow, moving upwards onto Oikawa’s bicep.

“As soon as possible would be great,” Oikawa said with a bleak smile as his eyes wandered over the blackened skin. Iwaizumi shook his head in agreeance, gathering his books from the table and going upstairs to gather his things.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They left the next day, taking the two horses and anything they could carry. It was early when they left, the sun barely beginning to rise as they mounted and set off towards the path that snaked through the dark forest. Oikawa looked back at the unlit cottage, barely able to make out any details in the dim lighting. He fondly took in one last image of the serene farm as he kicked his horse forward, bolting into the woods.

They passed through a nearby village at noon, buying food and equipment to sustain them throughout their journey. It was a quaint town with cobblestone roads and twisting streets; nothing like Oikawa had ever seen before. The farther he strayed from the palace, the more amazed he became at the kingdom around him. Often, as they passed through small villages and farms, he would have to remind himself to close his mouth as he gaped at the beautiful landscape around him.

There were no mountains in the South where the capital was, and Oikawa had only ever seen paintings of them in the palace galleries. Seeing their impressive height for the first time nearly made Oikawa tremble; they were stunning. The North truly was as beautiful as he’d been told. Oikawa learned quickly that it was also as treacherous as he’d been told. 

They began to approach the foothills of the great range a week after traveling. As they got deeper into the hills, fewer and fewer towns began to pop up, meaning they often had to spend the night on the top of some grassy knoll using their bags as pillows. Roughing it certainly wasn’t something Oikawa was used to as a prince and he often kept Iwaizumi awake with his incessant whining.

The days were easier than the nights though, and they had all the time in the world to talk. As the hours dragged on day by day, their conversations grew deeper and longer. After some prying, Iwaizumi figured out that Oikawa escaped from the palace with the help of some of his guards. One of them had given him a sword, which Oikawa kept at his side as they rode. Oikawa told him many stories about the guards, walking him through their many adventures throughout the palace grounds. Iwaizumi also learned that Oikawa had been knighted after training with the palace guards. It surprised him somewhat, seeing how lithe and thin Oikawa was; most days Iwaizumi wondered if he could even lift the blade that he carried at his hip. But, Iwaizumi remembered their fateful encounter in the forest with the bandits; he recalled how expertly Oikawa had swung the sword, how balanced he seemed with the weapon. He supposed that the title of knight fit him after all.

Oikawa learned things about Iwaizumi as well. He learned that Iwaizumi was an orphan raised in one of the port cities that Oikawa had passed through on his way to the Northwoods. One day, as they picked their way through the steep trails of the mountains, Iwaizumi solemnly told him the story of how his mother had died. He was just a boy when it happened, and having no one left, he had resorted to thieving just to get by. And yet with every painful memory, Iwaizumi had managed to carry on, he’d picked himself up and persisted. It gave Oikawa newfound respect for the man, knowing the hardship that he had been through. He also found that, in an odd sense, they were able to bond over the loss of their mothers, even if Oikawa never met his. There was a strange comfort that they shared in the experience, a kind of solidarity.

Oikawa also learned that, at heart, Iwaizumi wasn’t anything like the grumpy old man that he seemed to act like on the outside. He found that after hours in the saddle, Iwaizumi had a hankering for jokes. His favorites usually consisted of insulting Oikawa in some way or another. Most of the time, Oikawa wasn’t impressed; he’d been called a dumbass plenty of times before. But in the past few days of the trip, there were a few new developments in Iwaizumi’s list of verbal abuses. One day, after letting his eyes wander when leading the way through a forest, Oikawa forgot to hold back a branch for Iwaizumi, resulting in a wad of leaves and sticks hitting Iwaizumi square in the face.

“Shitty-kawa!” he’d screamed, trudging his way to the front so as to avoid any more branches to the face. Oikawa had to hold a hand to his mouth to suppress a laugh. The days after that had consisted of many more odd insults brought on by a frustrated and flustered Iwaizumi. Oikawa found them wildly entertaining.

But as the weeks dragged on, Oikawa's wound only grew worse. He tried his best to hide it, excusing himself to ‘relieve himself’ many times a day to re-wrap the wound. It had spread past his shoulder now, creeping onto his chest. He tried hard to keep it from Iwaizumi, making sure that his shirt was always buttoned enough to hide the angry black mark. He tried hard, but Iwaizumi knew better than to think Oikawa just had a leaky bladder every day. He would watch Oikawa’s face as he grimaced when he remounted his horse, urging it forward to continue on their journey after one of his ‘breaks’. He bit his tongue as he followed the horse in front of him, not sure of what to say, or if he should say anything at all.

A few days later, after washing himself in a nearby stream, Oikawa found that the wound was now to his thighs, making its way down the side of his body and spreading all over his chest. He’d gasped as he ran his hands over the sensitive flesh, hissing at the heat that the burn gave off. It was only a matter of time before the pain would debilitate him entirely. He grit his teeth as he dressed himself, trying to push his way through the pain that raced all over his side, burning as it went. He mounted his horse and silently began to move forward. Iwaizumi had done most of the talking that day, Oikawa barely able to get a word out through his clenched teeth.

Iwaizumi checked the map as they stopped for the night, finding shelter under the trees at the bottom of a valley. They were most of the way there now, needing less than a week’s travel to arrive at their destination. Oikawa smiled at the news, praying that he’d make it there without another episode.

The next morning, Oikawa was the first to wake. He sat up, stretching and yawning as his eyes met the barely-there sun as it peeked over the ridge of one of the mountains. He placed his feet on the ground, shakily rising as he gripped the tree for balance. The pain hit him like a massive wave pounding the sand of an unsuspecting beach. He lurched forward, gripping the low branches of the tree. The pain raced down his side and through his leg, into his foot. Cursing silently to not wake Iwaizumi, he took off his boot, staring in horror as the ugly wound had made its way down to the sole of his foot. He slipped the boot back on, attempting to step gingerly, but failing. He slapped a hand over his mouth as he sank to the ground, blocking any of the groans that threatened to escape from his throat.

Beside him, Iwaizumi stirred, sitting up and facing the man crouching awkwardly next to him. He blinked slowly as he tried to assess the situation, his eyes still heavy with sleep. But a small whine from Oikawa made his eyes shoot open, alarmed at such a noise. As the world around him became clear, he could see Oikawa with a hand over his mouth staring wide-eyed at the ground as he fought back another whimper. 

“Oikawa, what’s wrong?” he said, trying to mask any panic in his voice for fear of upsetting the other. He watched as Oikawa shook his head, refusing to give any information as to what had happened. Iwaizumi got to his feet, shuffling over to kneel in front of Oikawa.

“Oikawa,” he begins again. “You need to tell me what’s wrong.” He reached up to Oikawa’s face, taking his wrist and pulling his hand away from his face. 

“Hurts,” was all that Oikawa was able to get out. 

“The wound?” Iwaizumi asked, a look of confusion crossing his face. He hadn’t looked at it in a while, but surely it couldn’t be that bad. He took Oikawa's hand, pulling up the sleeve when he felt Oikawa yank back his arm, shaking his head.

“Not there.” He motioned his head down, nodding towards his leg. Wide-eyed, Iwaizumi dragged his hands down to the other’s leg, watching as his face contorted in agony as it reached lower and lower. Iwaizumi eventually came to his foot, watching as Oikawa’s reactions stayed the same.  _ No _ , Iwaizumi thought,  _ surely it couldn't be all the way down- _

He sucked in a shaky breath as he took off the boot, seeing the burnt skin cover the bottom of the prince’s foot. His eyes darted back up to Oikawa’s face.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, fearing how long this had gone without Oikawa telling him.

Oikawa just clenched his jaw tighter. “You couldn't have done anything; there was no point.” Oikawa pushed his back up against the trunk of the tree behind him, using his other foot to raise himself off the ground. He stood with a death grip on the tree as he wobbled forward. Iwaizumi rushed to him just in time, catching him as he fell away from the tree weakly.

“Don’t try to walk,” he said as he turned Oikawa to the side, squatting down and slipping his other arm under his knees. Surprisingly, Oikawa was lucid enough to be embarrassed at how easily Iwaizumi had hoisted him up, walking him over and setting him on his horse. It only took a few minutes for Iwaizumi to gather the rest of their belongings and ready himself for the rest of the journey. Before mounting his horse, he walked over to Oikawa and gave him a small piece of bread.

“Eat,” he said, leaving no room for any of Oikawa’s usual complaints. Luckily, Oikawa was in no state to keep up his normal banter and he greedily ate the small bit of food. Iwaizumi watched him, concern written on his face. “Do you think you can hold on?” he asked, motioning to the horse that Oikawa was currently seated upon. Oikawa nodded, gripping the reins tighter in his hands to prove his wavering strength.

They set off soon after that, Iwaizumi making sure that Oikawa stayed right by his side the entire time. It wasn’t easy going and the trails seemed to become more and more dangerous as they tracked their way through the mountains. As the sky began to fade and they set up camp once more, it became apparent that Oikawa was in no condition to stand, much less walk on his own. It was all he could do to not fall off his horse when they reached their resting spot for the night.

Days passed as they trudged on and the lack of communication between them seemed to be almost more agonizing than the burn. Oikawa rarely spoke, the pain of just sitting in the saddle almost too much for him to bear. And every night, Iwaizumi helped him off his horse, laying down their bags and setting Oikawa on the ground to rest. Oikawa hated it. He hated having to be carried around and tended to like some child; it infuriated him to no end. He hated Iwaizumi’s silence more though; he hated how gingerly he touched his arm, eyes flitting up to gauge his pain. He was careful, and Oikawa despised it. He wasn’t a child, he didn’t need to be treated like one; it was humiliating! But Oikawa was in no state to resist and had no choice but to simply give in to Iwaizumi’s care.

They’d been riding one afternoon, the late summer heat plastering their clothes to their skin when Iwaizumi had whistled, drawing Oikawa’s attention away from the clouds he had been studying. Oikawa urged his horse forward, drawing closer to Iwaizumi’s position on the top of the ridge. As he peered over, looking down the slope, he could see part of a forest come into view. Even from their current elevation, Oikawa could see how dense the foliage was. He let a small breath out, managing a smile for the first time in half a week.

“Is that it?” he asked, turning to Iwaizumi who had the map open.

“Yes.” Iwaizumi smiled at him as he guided his horse to the side, following a steep trail down the side of the ridge. Giddily, Oikawa followed him, trying his hardest not to gallop down the slope as he caught up with Iwaizumi.

After a couple of hours, they’d reached the forest. The trees were tall, though not quite as tall as the trees in the Northwoods. But what they lacked in height, they made up for in width and sprawl. The trunks were massive and their roots shot out from the ground, forming hazardous obstacles in the once-well-trodden path. It was dark too, the shade of the canopy making dark shadows dance across the forest floor. 

They rode on for a few more hours, searching for the ingredient that Iwaizumi needed for the spell. One night, he’d taken a page from the book to show the plant to Oikawa. It was a white-petaled flower with a delicate purple center. But as they made their way through the woods, they were disappointed to find that no such bloom had come into view. 

As the sun began to set, splattering the sky in a magnificent array of fiery hues, the men continued on the path. The path became more grown-over as they kept riding, the grass growing unusually tall and the branches of the trees interlocking as if forming a kind of net over them. Just as the sky began to dim, they approached a clearing. But as they came closer, they noticed something odd about the grove. All around the edges of the clearing were the ruined remains of small houses and cabins. Their stone walls crumbled and cracked where the vines and ivy had overtaken them.

It was definitely creepy, but it had been literal weeks since either of them had spent the night in any kind of shelter. So ignoring the eeriness of the place, they decided to take shelter in one of the abandoned shacks at the edge of the grove. After tying up the horses, Iwaizumi lifted Oikawa from his horse and carried him to the inside of the small shelter. He placed him on the floor softly and went out to grab more supplies. Oikawa let his eyes wander around the place as he sat on the cold floor. There were the remnants of shutters on the holes that he suspected were windows at some point. There was a fireplace at one end of the building, a small indentation with a rack to hold pots and pans. He smiled; it was a quaint, little place that reminded him of Iwaizumi’s cottage.

He shivered as he felt a breeze whip through the clearing, blowing through the house as it went. He rubbed his hands together as he tried to regain some of the warmth that he’d just been robbed of. He looked back at the fireplace, considering lighting a small fire to warm the both of them throughout the night. As another gust of wind raced through the grove, he became sure of his choice. He noticed a rock sitting on the edge of the mantle and reached for a dagger that he kept in his belt. He gathered some of the straw from the floor, combining it with a few sticks that lay in the doorway and shoved it into the fireplace. He drew his knife, striking it against the rock as sparks shot out, landing on the kindling. A victorious smile slid onto his face as he watched the material take hold of the flame. 

But the triumphant expression didn’t last long. Oikawa squawked as he felt heat race up his legs, bleeding into his stomach like the tongues of the very fire that burned in the fireplace. Fighting back a scream, he tore open his pants, watching as the burn slithered down his body, covering his abdomen and legs in the sinister, black color. He gasped as it moved across his skin, bathing both of his legs in a miserable, fiery sensation. 

At that moment, Iwaizumi walked through the doorway carrying their bags. He promptly threw them to the ground at the sight of Oikawa writhing on the ground. Eyes wide with terror, he rushed to the man on the floor, kneeling to see what had happened. 

“Oikawa, what happened? What’s wrong?” His tone was urgent and frightened. Oikawa, not able to produce any words, simply pointed to his hips. Iwaizumi followed his fingers to where they were motioning, finding that the wound had spread all across his stomach. Dread began to pool in his stomach as he peeled back the fabric of Oikawa’s pants, seeing that the mark had traveled down both of his legs. He stood up, pushing off the ground and looking down at Oikawa.

“Wait here,” he said hurriedly, sprinting towards the bags that he’d tossed on the floor a few moments earlier. He rummaged through them for a second, finding a small cloth and running out the door. Once outside, he scanned the dark grove, finding a pool of water at the edge of the trees. He ran to it, bedding down to wet the rag and wring it out. Hurrying back inside the shack, he crouched down next to Oikawa once more. 

“Deep breath,” he said as he pressed the cloth to the wound. Oikawa followed his instruction, pushing past the initial pain and calming down as the water cooled down the raging burn. Iwaizumi continued to wipe down the skin of the man, taking care not to press too hard or scrub too roughly. After a few minutes, Oikawa’s breathing had calmed to a normal pace and his skin stopped burning as intensely. But with the newfound relief, there was another problem. As the water cooled on his skin, the wind picked up outside, blowing through the trees and into the shack. Oikawa’s teeth chattered as the cold breeze bit at his skin.

Noticing Oikawa’s discomfort, Iwaizumi took off his cloak and wrapped it around the shuddering frame of the prince. Oikawa was the first to object, his pride damaged enough by Iwaizumi’s coddling.

“I d-don’t n-n-need that,” he said, his teeth still clicking together violently as he tried to use his shaking hands to remove the cloak. Iwaizumi reached down to stop Oikawa, grasping his hands and lowering them to his sides. 

“You do. Now come on, you need to rest.” He hauled Oikawa up in one solid motion. Oikawa tried to protest but found that his complaints fell on deaf ears. Iwaizumi set him down in the corner of the room, using his bag as a pillow and his cloak as a blanket. 

“Get some sleep,” he said as he turned away to ready himself for bed. As he turned, he let his stoic expression drop, his face growing somber and sorrowful as he let out his emotions. The sight of the burn creeping along Oikawa’s thigh was imprinted in his memory and flashed through his mind as he took his bag and arranged it on the floor. 

He had just begun to lay down when he heard a small noise from the other side of the room. He sat up, listening for the sound again, heart stopping when he heard it. A sniffle came from the corner Oikawa was laying in. 

“Oikawa,” he said, getting to his feet and quietly shuffling over to where the other man lay. “Hey, hey what’s-”

“It hurts,” He whimpered in response, cutting off Iwaizumi’s question.”It hurts so bad.” His voice cracked at the end, sending sharp pangs of anguish through Iwaizumi. In the pale moonlight that crept through the window, he could make out tears streaking down Oikawa’s face as he sobbed silently. Iwaizumi watched as he tensed again, experiencing another wave of agony. A hand shot out, grabbing the fabric of Iwaizumi’s shirt. He felt Oikawa’s hand clench around the fabric, trying desperately to push away the pain that raced through his body.

Iwaizumi sat down, letting Oikawa grab onto him. He clung to him so desperately; it was like the way a child holds onto their mother. Except Oikawa had no mother, he’d never known such a comforting embrace. But here he was, reduced to a sobbing mess on the floor. The once-mighty prince, the brightest pupil, the strongest swordsman, now a mere child on the ground. It made something snap in Iwaizumi as if the world had come crashing down all of the sudden. And as Oikawa shook violently in his arms, he leaned back against the wall, a lump forming in his throat.

It took a few minutes for Oikawa’s tears to dry. When the small, hiccuping breaths had deepened to a slow rise and fall of his chest, Iwaizumi shifted away from the wall, laying his head down on the bag that Oikawa had used as his pillow. He lay there for a while, listening to Oikawa’s soft snores from where his head was currently resting on his chest. In any other situation, he would have enough sense to be embarrassed by their position. But as the lump in his throat was yet to subside, he remained still, moving only his hands enough to draw soothing circles over the sleeping prince’s back. 

The wind rushed through the trees again, blowing through the door and across the two. And as Oikawa sleepily tightened his grip, Iwaizumi made a silent promise. _ I won’t leave _ , he thought,  _ Not now, not ever _ .


	7. The Spell

The morning was oddly cold in the grove. A chill seemed to permeate the area, spreading thickly through the trees and undergrowth. It was Iwaizumi that noticed it first; he had gotten up at the break of dawn, leaving Oikawa to rest in the small shack they had stayed in. 

Now, as he walked outside, he was immediately hit with the bitter coldness. For a brief moment, he almost regretted giving Oikawa his cloak to sleep with. But the memory of the shaking form of the other man pushed such thoughts aside. 

He wandered through the forest. The trees were enormous and old, nothing like Northwoods, which were tall and thin. Iwaizumi had ever seen such a forest before. But despite the trees’ mystique, he couldn’t help but feel wary and scared of what secrets they held. The entire forest seemed to surround him in an oppressive manner, leaving little room for the sun’s light to poke through the leaves.

As he meandered along the paths, he held a book in one hand, referencing a tiny drawing of the flower constantly. He flitted his eyes up periodically, searching for the small, white flower that held the cure to Oikawa’s curse. After walking for what seemed like hours, he stumbled upon another clearing. As he looked through the undergrowth, he found a small plant with leaves similar to the one in the drawings. He eagerly followed the path of the leaves, crashing excitedly through the bushes around him. He picked his way through thorns and vines, using his dagger to impatiently slice through some of the stubborn plants. His eyes searched wildly for the bloom but found none. He felt his heart sink as his mind raced desperately to an answer. No, no, no, he thought, it has to be here somewhere! 

Frustrated, he swung his dagger, attempting to cut angrily through some of the vines. They seemed to latch onto his blade, wrenching it from his grip as the knife flew to the ground. He stomped through the undergrowth as he went to retrieve the blade. He crouched to search for it in the bushes when a bright spot caught his eye. He turned slowly, unsure of what he would see. But as he turned his head, he saw the shape of a small, white flower before him.

He lunged towards it, almost tripping over the roots that snaked across the forest floor. He reached out his hands, cradling the single bloom in his palms. It was an intense, pale color, nearly glowing in the rising light of the early morning. The old, fading pages of his book hadn't done the beauty of the flower justice; it was certainly a sight to behold. But more concerning than the illustration was the fact that there were only one of the flowers. Iwaizumi gulped, realizing that this single flower was his only chance; it was Oikawa’s only chance. Neither of them could afford to mess this up.

He hurried to his feet, rushing out of the clearing and back to the paths. He went as fast as his feet could carry him, racing along the broken, misshapen trails that wound through the woods. He thought that he’d nearly lost himself in the grand forest when he finally came upon the grove that they had stayed in. He made his way over to the small shack that he and Oikawa had spent the night in, gathering supplies from his bags as he made for the small entrance to the hut.

He’d packed most of the supplies he’d found in the attic. Most of it consisted of odd jars and herbs with an occasional crystal or rock thrown in as well. He opened the spellbook, checking the directions as he gathered his supplies to move them indoors. There were lots of ingredients along with a lot of grinding, stirring, and mixing. But he set up the equipment and laid the book face-up on the cold floor of the small shack, readying himself for a long day of preparation. 

He glanced at Oikawa, who slept next to him, still curled into Iwaizumi’s cloak. He gritted his teeth, pushing away the grim thoughts that danced around his mind. No, he wouldn’t lose Oikawa. Not when they’d gotten so close. He clenched his jaw as he set himself to work.

So for the next few hours, Oikawa lay next to him, breathing quietly and gently. Iwaizumi was careful not to disturb him, taking the time to grind the herbs and plants slower so that it made less noise. But as he went on with the spell, he found that Oikawa was fast asleep, not ready to awaken any time soon. It was slightly unnerving seeing him so motionless. But as Iwaizumi remembered his wounds from the night before, he knew that Oikawa must need all the rest he could get. And so he let him sleep, cautious to let him keep as much strength as he could.

The hours dragged on as he continued to combine his ingredients, stopping occasionally so that he could eat some of the little food that remained in their supplies. Oikawa woke up sometime after noon, groggily opening his eyes and watching Iwaizumi. It was a tedious process, he learned, to make all of the measurements and mix every ingredient. It was certainly an advanced spell, nothing that Iwaizumi had ever attempted before. It set his nerves alight with anxiety just thinking about what was to come. 

They talked briefly to entertain Oikawa, who not once moved from his position on the floor, far too weak to do anything but shift slightly. They shared stories, talking about childhood adventures and such while Oikawa watched Iwaizumi pore over his books and equipment. Oikawa tried his best to sound upbeat as he told Iwaizumi stories of his palace shenanigans. But despite his efforts, his exhaustion was obvious, showing in the way that he uncharacteristically stumbled over words and paused for breath.

“Iwa-chan, tell me another story,” Oikawa whined, trying to mask his discomfort as he decided to take a break from his storytelling.

“Oikawa, we don’t have time-” He cut himself off, refusing to complete the sentence that had begun to spill out from his mouth. A painful silence lingered between them, and oddly enough, most of the sorrow seemed to emanate from Iwaizumi. It rolled over him like waves; rocking through his body like a helpless boat in a raging storm. It was something neither of them wanted to acknowledge: the fact that Iwaizumi might be too late; the fact that Oikawa might not make it.

The silence dragged on for a few painful moments before Oikawa tossed his head, shaking it as he dismissed Iwaizumi’s comment. “It’s fine, you're probably busy anyway.” He shifted as he tried to get more comfortable on the floor. “Besides, I think I’m gonna go back to sleep for a bit.”

Iwaizumi’s brow furrowed with both concern and confusion. Oikawa had barely just woken up, so why was he already tired enough to go back to sleep? He moved closer to where Oikawa lay, moving his hand to press it lightly against Oikawa’s forehead. His eyes widened as he felt a slight burn: a fever. Oikawa was worse than he thought; he was deteriorating fast. Iwaizumi felt his heart skip a beat. What if Oikawa didn’t make it through the night? He let his hand fall to the other’s face, gently caressing his cheeks as he let his mind swim with terrifying ideas.

He turned back to the open spellbook that lay on the ground. A determined look crossed his face as he pulled away from Oikawa’s sleeping body. No, he thought, flipping through the pages with newfound desperation. He’ll get the spell done. He’ll get it prepared and Oikawa will be fine.

And as the hours dragged on, Oikawa remained in his deep sleep while Iwaizumi continued to ready the spell. The sky turned grey, heavy with rain that rolled in as summer drew to an end. The clouds were angry and seemed to mimic Iwaizumi’s expression as he flipped through the pages, finalizing everything for the spell. The smell of rain hung in the air; the humidity making Iwaizumi’s clothes stick to his body. It was nearly unbearable but he pushed on, unwilling to give up. 

He watched as Oikawa continued to rest, his sleep becoming more and more fitful as the day carried on. His arms would twitch and his legs would kick as his whole body would shake and shiver violently from across the small shelter. Eventually, Iwaizumi made his way over to where the other man was laying, bending over to check on him as he slept. He cautiously put his hand to his forehead, tensing immediately as he found that it was even hotter than before. Oikawa’s teeth clattered as he slowly opened his eyes to look weakly at Iwaizumi who had crouched beside him.

“Hi,” Oikawa whispered softly before coughing. His entire frame shook, doubling over as the cough attacked his body mercilessly. He glanced at Iwaizumi who was staring in disbelief at the man. How could it be this bad? How long was Oikawa going to last? Iwaizumi had planned to do the spell the next day, but by the looks of the man in front of him, he wasn't going to make it to tomorrow without some sort of intervention.

“Don’t speak,” Iwaizumi said as he forced Oikawa to lay back down, covering him with his cloak once more. Even in the summer heat, Oikawa was shivering with cold, sweat plastering his dark hair to his forehead. He was a weak and pathetic sight, one that made Iwaizumi’s gut twist in an unpleasant manner. It was no way for a prince to look. A prince deserved luxury and fine treatment, not a dirty stone floor in the middle of a forest.

“Save your energy,” Iwaizumi continued as he stood. He turned to gather what was left of their rations, pressing them to Oikawa’s lips in an attempt to force him to eat. It was all he could do to swallow a few crumbs, using what remained of his energy to open his mouth.

Looking out the window, Iwaizumi could see the sky darken as dusk began to set upon them. He bit his lip as he cursed silently. The spell couldn’t wait for tomorrow; he’d have to do it now. Gathering his supplies in his arms, he walked through the doorway and out into the open grove. He set down his ingredients as he unsheathed a sword. He began to furiously cut a circular symbol into the ground, laying the foundation for the spell. It was a complex symbol, difficult to draw. But despite the intricacy, he didn’t miss a beat; he drew the lines and curves with an expert hand.

The air was thick around him as he panted. Once he had the symbol cut into the earth, he flung the sword aside, caring not for where it landed. He raced to the shack, bursting through the door and gathering up the other man in his arms. Oikawa said nothing as Iwaizumi carried him out of the shack, far too weak to protest. He lay limp in Iwaizumi’s arms as the tan man ran back to the slashed earth in the center of the grove. Once they reached the circle, Iwaizumi set Oikawa down in the center, right on top of the main symbol. 

As Oikawa lay on the cold ground, Iwaizumi scuttled around him, taking out his supplies and arranging them around the circle. Oikawa watched from the ground as Iwaizumi lit the candles and sprinkled the herbs around him, his brow furrowed in anxious concentration. He watched as Iwaizumi reached for the small spell book as he knelt in front of the prince. His breathing was shallow and shaky, mimicking Oikawa’s, though for an entirely different reason.

The air around them was thick with the scent of imminent rain. But despite the humidity, there was an odd chill surrounding them. Iwaizumi took a deep breath as he glanced down at the tattered pages of the book in his hands. Closing his eyes, he set the book down, opening his palms to the darkened sky as he began to chant. The atmosphere was suddenly charged, almost electric around the two men. A light began to pour out of Iwaizumi hands, dim at first, and then growing to a brilliant glow in a matter of seconds. Oikawa stared at it with wonder, watching as Iwaizumi raised his hands, making the symbol below and around him begin to shine as well. The light reached out and danced on the trees around them, creating a dazzling display of color.

As Iwaizumi kept chanting, the light kept growing, creeping towards a near-blinding brightness around them. Oikawa watched as Iwaizumi leaned forward, reaching out his hands to Oikawa as he lay in a heap on the glowing ground. His chanting was almost a scream as he touched his hands to Oikawa’s head, pressing his finger gently to his temples. Immediately, Oikawa felt a tension release inside of him; as if a tight cord had been cut. He relaxed, feeling both weightless and painless as Iwaizumi continued his magic.

With the strength that he had left, Oikawa lifted his arms, bare from when Iwaizumi had inspected them the night before. To his surprise, the blackened skin had begun to fade down to his wrists. A smile crossed his face as he watched the mark disappear past his fingers, leaving them as pale and perfect as they had been just a few months prior.

Iwaizumi watched too, grinning widely as he watched Oikawa’s wound retract down his arms. With a few final words, he released the light, finishing the spell. The light shot out around them, painting the surrounding forest in a magnificent array of colors. Iwaizumi watched as the light began to flicker and fizzle out among the leaves and branches of the trees; a triumphant smile resting on his exhausted features. He turned back to Oikawa, whose face was sporting a matching expression.

The moment was a beautiful one, but short nonetheless. It was cut short by a gasp from the prince’s eyes going wide with an unmistakable expression of pain. Iwaizumi looked down, watching in horror as Oikawa’s palm began to blacken; the mark, pushing past his fingers and back onto his wrist. Oikawa lifted his hand, seeing the wound race back up his arm. It moved at a terrible pace, streaking all over his pale skin with a speed he’d never seen before.

“Wait,” Iwaizumi started, unsure of what was happening. “Wait, No, this- this isn't- it’s not supposed to…” His face contorted in both confusion and terror as he saw the horrible wound crawl over Oikawa’s body. 

“Iwaizumi-” Oikawa started weakly, immediately getting cut off.

“No!” Iwaizumi reached for the book beside him, re-reading the words as he anxiously flipped through the pages. “No, what did I?...” he trailed off as his eyes desperately searched for an answer in the ancient pages of the spellbook. To his dismay, he would find no answer.

“Iwaizumi,” Oikawa said again, trying to gain his attention as the curse crept back up his shoulder. He listened to the rising urgency in Iwaizumi’s voice, hating every step that it took closer to panic.

“It can’t be! I did- I did everything right, I-”

“Hajime,” Oikawa said softly, watching as the other’s head immediately snapped towards him at the use of his given name. “Hey,” he said as he reached his blackened hand to rest at Iwaizumi’s jaw. “It’s okay. You did everything right, it’s okay.” His tone was soft and somber, impossibly delicate as he rubbed his hand soothingly across Iwaizumi’s cheekbone.

Iwaizumi felt heat prick at his eyes as Oikawa let his hand fall to where his shoulder met his neck, curling his fingers to gently cradle his head. His eyes began to cloud, which was his excuse for missing what happened next. A warmth enveloped his mouth; a gentle press that tingled across his lips. Then, as soon as it had come, the kiss was gone. He opened his eyes, feeling a single tear make its way down his cheek as his eyes met Oikawa’s. He opened his mouth, trying to claw a few words out of his throat.

But as he failed to speak, Oikawa fell back, landing softly on the grass below. His eyes closed as Iwaizumi watched the black burn crawl up the sides of his face, sweeping over his cheeks and up to his eyes. He scrambled forward, clinging to Oikawa’s arm as he tried in vain to comfort him. It was a futile attempt, a desperate one. And as Oikawa’s lips parted once more, Iwaizumi leaned closer, desperate to hear anything that he would say. Instead, he was met with a single breath; a ghosting exhale that rattled its way out of the dying prince.

Iwaizumi could barely process what had happened as he held onto Oikawa. That breath, he thought as his chest tightened, squeezing as if trying to snuff out Iwaizumi as well. That breath was… his last. And the memories swept over him as he reached out for Oikawa, cradling his body in his arms. The prince lay as limp and still as the old mage had in the forest. Except for this time, there were no words, no final goodbye. It was unfair, it was unjust. He gripped Oikawa’s lifeless form tighter in his arms, trying in vain to protect him, to save him. But it was no use, for Oikawa was gone, his slack body a tragic reminder of the events that had just unfolded.

Iwaizumi listened as his breaths became ragged. He felt his throat burn with his eyes as he failed to suppress the waves of grief that flowed over him. He paid no attention to the sobs that racked his chest, reserving his clouded, blurry gaze for the dead man in his arms. And as the sobs grew louder, he felt himself choke on the sounds, barely breathing as they tore mercilessly through his body. He tossed his head back, closing his eyes as he let out a scream. He screamed again and again, ripping the horrible sounds out of his raw throat. And as he lay there on the ground, he let the world be witness to his agony as he held onto the fallen prince.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oikawa opened his eyes drowsily, shifting his head to the side. His eyes started to focus, seeing the grass beside his head, fluttering slightly in the breeze. Confused, he bolted up, using his elbows to prop himself up to look around. His head moves around, seeing the empty grove around him, completely devoid of life. It was empty, chilled, and quiet; an eerie feeling permeated the area. As he turned his head to glance around the empty clearing, the sight of a woman sitting next to him came into view. He held back a gasp, not sure of what to make of the woman. Her eyes gazed far off in the distance, almost searching for something. But as she heard Oikawa’s movements on the grass, she turned her head to face the prince.

“What is- where am I?” Oikawa sputtered out. His eyes darting all around, searching for Iwaizumi, who was nowhere to be seen. The woman seemed to notice his confusion. She smiled a warm smile at him and Oikawa, despite his nerves, immediately felt a wave of calm rush over him. It was an odd feeling, but he couldn't help but trust this strange woman and so he let himself be calmed by her expression.

“You,” the woman began, speaking softly and kindly, “have left the mortal realm.” 

Oikawa’s eyes widened at the statement. “Do you mean- Did I-”

“Die? Yes,” the woman answered plainly. She glanced off to the side, seemingly pained by something as her face became filled with sorrow. Oikawa’s face began to match hers as he contemplated what it meant.  _ He was dead? _ It didn’t feel right; there was no pain, but no joy either. He’d left everything behind him, including Iwaizumi. He felt so incredibly empty, so hollow; it was as if his very soul had died as well.

“I failed,” Oikawa said quietly, whispering to himself. The woman returned her gaze to where Oikawa sat, running her eyes morosely over him. Her eyes widened in surprise at hearing the princess words, shaking her head as he reached out to comfort him.

“No,” she started. “You didn’t fail, not at all. In fact, you put up more of a fight than anyone would've ever expected.” Oikawa’s expression turned to one of confusion, wondering how this woman knew anything about him.

“Pardon me, but… how do you know who I am?” Oikawa asked, now somewhat unnerved by the woman.

“I would know you from a mile away,” the woman said, staring deeply into his eyes. “You have your father’s eyes, you know.” Oikawa’s eyes widened, surprised by her acknowledgement of his royal blood. 

“You knew the king?” he asked, somewhat surprised.

“I met him once,” the woman answered, a cold tone to her voice. Oikawa nodded, but it was obvious that he was still confused, not quite understanding what it all meant. 

“It’s my fault,” she said after a few moments, only serving to confuse the prince further. She sighed as she continued. “Your death; it is my doing.” Oikawa tensed in shock, realizing the weight of her words.

“You- you’re the one who cursed me?” His voice was tentative, careful to confirm his suspicions. There was no anger in his voice, only pain. The woman bowed her head, looking away from him as she nodded.

“I shouldn't have,” she began. “It was hasty of me. And a firstborn curse, what was I thinking?” she muttered to herself.

“No,” Oikawa said gently. “No, I- I mean, what my father did was wrong. He burnt your village to the ground, you had every right to be angry.”

“Being angry is not reason enough to curse a child, no matter the circumstance.” The woman’s gaze was far off, lost in thought as she continued. “But I did, I cursed you. I cursed you to die before you had even been born. I cursed you for the sins of your father.”

Oikawa considered her words before replying. “Well, he certainly had plenty of sins. He was -is- an awful man.”

“He was; he was horrible. He was greedy, he was pompous, and he was arrogant. But none of those were the reason that I cursed you, his child.” Oikawa looked at her questioningly, trying to piece together the story that she had begun to unfold. “I laid the curse because he was a cruel, cold man. He cared for no one but himself.” She paused for a moment, choosing her next words carefully: “He watched our village burn and our people perish with nothing but malice and pride in his eyes.”

Oikawa remembered the scene that his father had told him of. The flaming houses and bloody corpses are strewn about the smoking streets. It was a horrifying image, a dark one filled with pain and despair. He shuddered as he let the scene play out in his head.

“I cursed you to bear the weight of your father’s sins,” the woman said. “You did it well. You kept trying; you never gave up. You never let anyone else give up.” Oikawa felt his eyes grow cloudy as he recognized what the last of her words meant. He remembered the panicked face of Iwaizumi as he held onto him in his final moments. Oikawa felt a sob wrench its way out of his chest, making his gasp as he struggled to steady his breathing. But it was no use; the sobs kept coming, the intensity increasing as he let the emotion overwhelm him. And it hurt, it hurt so bad to think about him, to think about leaving him. He fell forward onto the grass, hands reaching out to grab the grass as the tears streaked freely down his face. 

The woman moved to his side, arms wrapping around his shaking frame as he all but screamed into her robes. She shook him slightly, trying to get his attention as she pulled away briefly. 

“Oikawa,” she said. He ignored her, preferring to train his gaze on the earth beneath him. But she reached her hands up to his jaw, cupping his face in her hands. “Oikawa, you don’t understand. Your father’s sin, the heaviest of them all, was his lack of love. He burned our village, terrorized his citizens, and left his eldest son to fight an impossible curse.” Their eyes met for a moment, the woman trying to cement the idea into Oikawa’s mind. “Your father could not love,” she started, smiling as she went on. “But you are not your father; you have already proven that.”

“You proved it so many times. You proved it to the knights at the palace enough for them to help you escape. You proved it to the boys at the inn enough for them to give you a map and show you the way. And you proved it to Iwaizumi, who trekked across the mountains to take you here.” Oikawa stared at her, still perplexed by her words.

“Don’t you see?” she asked, grinning widely. “Oikawa, throughout your life, short as it was, you found the one thing that your father could never have: love.” Oikawa sat up in shock, not sure what to make of the woman’s explanation.

“Oikawa, you didn’t just bear the weight of his sins; you made amends, you righted his wrongs. You put love in the world where he gave none.”

“But the curse, it wasn’t broken. I still died.” He paused as he tried to remember what the king had told him about the curse. “Besides, father said that no magic in the world could cure the curse.”

“No magic in the world, “ she said, confirming Oikawa’s statement. “But we are no longer a part of that world are we?”

Oikawa considered it for a moment. Iwaizumi had talked about the barrier between the worlds; something about how the mortal and spirit realms were separated, allowing no magic to cross it. So this, this cure, was a loophole.

“I had to follow you here to break the curse?” The woman nodded in response, smiling as she watched the prince’s face turn from a gloomy expression to a blinding smile. 

“I could only break it if we were in the same realm. Unfortunately, I had to wait quite a while to meet you.” They laughed briefly, overtaken by the joy of the solution. But the joy faded from his face, letting his features return to the dejected expression that they had worn earlier. His eyes were filled with a bittersweet sorrow; reminiscing. The woman smiled as she realized his memories, understanding his heartfelt look.

“Oikawa,” she said as she turned to face the east. There, shades of blue had begun to peek over the crest of the mountains. “You’re ready to go back aren’t you?” The prince nodded quickly, shaking his head in a vigorous manner.

She reached forward, taking his hands in hers as she looked him in the eyes. She felt a single tear drip down her wrinkled cheek as she matched his excited smile. The woman leaned forward, pressing her forehead against the prince’s. She lifted her face to press a small kiss to his brow before looking him in the eyes once more.

“I forgive you,” she said, speaking softly. “I release you, Oikawa. I let go of my hate and with it, I let go of you as well…” She opened her eyes to focus on the man in front of her. 

As Oikawa met her gaze, he could see the world around him begin to shine, a soft glow emanating from the leaves of the empty grove around them. And the light reached out, touching and warming him. He felt the woman’s hands slip away as he leaned back, resting gently on the soft grass underneath him. His eyes became heavy, drooping until they were fully closed. He let the warm feeling swirl around him, feeling as it warped and twisted until it was gone, leaving him breathless in a heap on the ground.

He gasped as he bolted upright, huffing while he tried to regain his breath. Frantically, his eyes scanned the surrounding area, finding Iwaizumi just a few meters away from him. At the noise of his breath, the tanner man snapped his attention to where Oikawa was sitting. At first, his expression was a mix of horror and excitement that quickly dissolved into unadulterated delight. They lunged forward at the same time, meeting each other in a brutal embrace that was sure to leave both of them with bruises. Oikawa ended up winning in the battle of momentum and toppled on top of Iwaizumi, who snaked his arms around the back of the prince. Both of them had a death grip on the other as the sobs of relief began to creep out of them.

Iwaizumi sniffed as he tried to catch his breath. “I-” he choked out. “I thought I lost you.” Oikawa just held him tighter, ignoring the droplets that stained the fabric of his shirt where Iwaizumi’s face was buried. He didn’t reply to Iwaizumi’s comment, too choked with his own emotion to muster anything else.

Iwaizumi lifted his head for a moment, pulling back sharply as he saw movement among the trees around them. Oikawa loosened his hold on the other and turned to where Iwaizumi had trained his gaze. There in the forest was the woman, glowing ethereal as she watched the two of them. Oikawa watched a smile spread across her face as she began to turn and look around the grove. Oikawa followed her gaze, gasping lightly as more and more glowing figures appeared around the clearing.

The two men watched together as the apparitions watched them, smiling contentedly as they paced about, seemingly following some unseen paths. There were men with loads of firewood in their arms and women holding their children’s hands. They milled about the ruins, going inside some of the decimated buildings. It was as if they were still alive. Oikawa watched as they eventually paused, all taking in the sight of the two of them embracing on the ground. The children stopped chasing bugs and the men set down their supplies. 

They watched them intently, their smiles the same as the woman. They seemed to have an air of pride and gratitude to their expression. And as Oikawa fit the pieces together, he let his mouth part slightly in surprise. This was the village. He looked around at the ruins, noticing the blackened stone partially-burnt roofs. So after this entire journey… he had come back to the place it had all started at.

Suddenly, a light found its way into the prince’s eyes. He turned to find the source, seeing the sun start to just barely shine over the peaks of the mountains. He let his gaze flit back to the grove, where at the edge, the figures began to dim. Their forms began to shimmer, almost bending like a mirage as they faded from view. They watched as one by one, the entire village began to slowly dissipate, fading slowly until only the woman remained. Oikawa watched as she smiled and nodded, bowing slightly before disappearing into the air around her. And just like that, the grove was as empty as it had been at the beginning of the night.

Oikawa let a smile come onto his face as the sun continued to shine over them, painting the world in a bright, golden light. And as he turned his face to where Iwaizumi sat beside him, he let one final tear make it way down his face. Maybe it was relief, maybe it was sadness. In reality, it was neither of those things. Instead, it was pure, unfiltered joy. Joy that he’d live to see another day; joy that he’d never have to spend another minute without the man next to him. 

And as the sun began to rise, bringing another day into existence. Oikawa smiled, promising to make every moment of his life worth it for this miraculous second chance. And to start it off, he reached over to Iwaizumi next to him, turning his head as he fit their lips together. He hesitated for a moment, unsure of Iwaizumi’s next movements. But as he felt a hand come up to cup his jaw, he felt his heart soar, confident once more.

When they pulled away, they spoke no words. They didn’t need to. They didn’t need to hear any words to confirm what they both were feeling; just laying there together was enough. It had always been enough; it would always be enough.    
  



	8. Epilogue - The Lovers

The cottage was quiet; it usually was in the mornings. Oikawa milled about the kitchen, smiling as he drew back the curtains of the window to let in the sun. It was a warm, soft glow that lit up the tiny space with a gentle, golden hue. The birds had just begun to chirp as he reached for his apron that was draped lazily over one of the chairs.

It was always peaceful in the mornings, especially with Iwaizumi being such a heavy sleeper. He didn’t usually budge as Oikawa would crawl out of bed to go downstairs and make breakfast. Oikawa found it endearing though when he would come down later, groggily slumping into one of the chairs as he watched Oikawa cook. 

He was always so cute when he was tired, maybe because those were the times in which he didn’t bother trying to be subtle about sneaking glances. And when Oikawa would jokingly confront him about it, he wouldn’t try to deny it; far too drowsy to deny it. They were simple pleasures, moments of domestic bliss that Oikawa very much enjoyed.

Now, as he finished cracking the eggs into the pan, he felt a familiar pair of arms curl around him, settling gently across his waist. He felt a chin rest on his shoulder as well, peeking over to watch as he continued to cook breakfast.

“Good morning,” he said, getting only a sleepy grumble in response. He laughed contentedly, pressing a quick kiss to the temple of Iwaizumi’s head that was still resting on his shoulder. He finished the eggs, pulling them off the stove as he moved towards the table, Iwaizumi not far behind him.

They ate in silence, both too tired to talk. It wasn’t unpleasant though, the quiet was peaceful and comforting. As Iwaizumi finally started to wake up from his early-morning haze, he began to talk about going to the nearby village to pick up more supplies. It had been a month since their last trip and they were running low on ingredients again. 

“We probably need to head into town soon,” he said as he cleaned the table, putting both of their plates in the small washbasin. “We’ve used up almost all of the flour.”

Oikawa groaned, pouting about having to get dressed to go to the village. “We’re always low on flour…” he grumbled.

“Because you’re always using it,” Iwaizumi countered.

“To feed you!” Oikawa said right back. They held an intense stare for a moment before dissolving into gentle giggles, amused by the playful banter. The brief and sprightly arguments had become a part of their daily routine. There was a sense of comfort in it; knowing each other well enough to know exactly what buttons to push.

Oikawa smiled and stood from his chair, making his way across the small kitchen to stand by Iwaizumi. He lowered his head ever-so-slightly to meet Iwaizumi’s lips with his own. This, of course, was much to the chagrin of the other who despised the fact that Oikawa was the taller of the two. Nevertheless, he returned the kiss, savoring the quiet moment in the early morning.

It was Oikawa who pulled back first, grinning as he bumped noses with the tanner man. “I’ll go get dressed,” he said as he turned away to go back upstairs to their bedroom. Iwaizumi watched him disappear up the stairs, smiling fondly as he followed shortly behind him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The village was a quiet one, situated precariously in the foothills of the mountains. It was a peaceful place populated by farmers and artisans. And now, in the early parts of the day, it was busy with the bustling of carts and shops being set up in the streets. Oikawa and Iwaizumi had left their horses tied at the nearby tavern, knowing and trusting the owner after the few years that they’d been acquainted.

They walked together through the wide streets in the main part of the small town, taking in the sights and sounds. It was only a short while before they reached the small market at the edge of the main square. They strolled about for a while, talking quietly as they gathered the supplies they would need for the coming month. 

It was the usual supplies: flour, sugar, and butter for Oikawa’s kitchen endeavors as well as ink and quills for the frequent writing that they both did. They wandered around the place for a while longer before buying their supplies. They left as they grabbed their bags, opening the small doors when they heard a commotion outside.

In the square, there was a small crowd starting to form around a fountain in the center. The people clamored to the middle anxiously, trying to get closer to the men standing at the heart of the crowd. The men were well dressed, white & blue uniforms crisp in the morning sun. 

It wasn’t difficult to recognize their attire and Oikawa’s eyes widened as he realized who they were: palace guards. He snuck around Iwaizumi, hiding himself from view as he heard their voices ring loud and clear.

“An announcement from the capital!” one said to the crowd before him. “The noble king of Seijoh has unfortunately passed away.” The people of the crowd gasped collectively. Oikawa did so with them as Iwaizumi held him tighter, steadying him.

“His heir was the late Prince Oikawa Tooru. He is, of course, presumed to be dead and a new heir has been appointed in his place.” The guard paused for effect, letting the townspeople react to the news before continuing. “The coronation of Prince Yahaba Shigeru shall be held tomorrow morning. As of noon tomorrow, the kingdom will have a new king.” The crowd seemed to consider this, going quiet as they pondered.

Iwaizumi flitted his eyes to where Oikawa stood just behind his shoulder, meeting his gaze with a questioning tone. Oikawa opened his mouth, trying to speak and give any clarity to the situation. But before any words could be said, the guard voice rang out once more across the square. 

“Long live the king!” It was a loud, resounding cry that echoed through the square.

“Long live the king!” the people shouted in unison, confirming their support for the new heir. They let the crowd continue their cheers as they dispersed around the square. Oikawa took the opportunity to blend in with the mass of moving bodies and led himself and Iwaizumi through the streets. 

They had nearly made it back to the tavern before Oikawa had deemed them to be far enough from the bustling crowd of the town square. Iwaizumi turned to look at Oikawa, who was still somewhat on edge from the whole experience.

“King Yahaba?” Iwaizumi asked, trying to pry any information out of Oikawa. Ever since Oikawa had revealed his royal blood, they seemed to have made a silent agreement to leave it out of their discussions. For this reason, Iwaizumi was still fairly unacquainted with the royal side of Oikawa’s life.

“Yes, Shigeru was my younger brother, er- half-brother.” Iwaizumi nodded in response, remembering Oikawa’s explanation of his father’s second marriage. “He was a good child; always polite and astute. It’s no wonder they chose him as the heir; he’ll make for a great king.”

They continued to walk through the streets of the village, the cobblestones eventually becoming more dirt-covered as they reached the edge of the town. They approached the tavern, untying their horses as they loaded up their supplies.

“You seem proud of him,” Iwaizumi said as he mounted his horse, settling in the saddle as he turned to face Oikawa.

“Why wouldn’t I be? He is my brother, after all,” Oikawa responded, slightly confused by Iwaizumi’s words.

“Oh, it’s just- you were the heir and now he’s taking the throne.” Iwaizumi cleared his throat as he tried to get out the words. He saw a look of confusion cross Oikawa’s face and began to speak once more. “I mean, you were supposed to be the heir and now you’re here…” he trailed off, unsure of how to say it.

“Iwa-chan, do you really think I’d leave you for some stupid crown?” Iwaizumi perked up at the sound of his nickname, listening intently to what Oikawa was saying. His eyes went wide as he registered what the other man had said. Under Oikawa’s piercing gaze, he shook his head.

“Good,” Oikawa said as he turned his horse and began to walk. He let his eyes wander back to where Iwaizumi still stood, tossing his head forward. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go home already. I want you to show me that dough-rising charm again.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes as he smiled, urging his horse forward to catch up with Oikawa. “I’ve been showing you that charm for years.” He tried his best to act annoyed by Oikawa’s requests, but despite his best efforts, he never could seem to hold any bite to his words. And no matter how many jokes or insults came spilling from his mouth, he would never fail to tend to Oikawa’s every desire, including doing the stupid dough charm that he’d shown him all those years ago. He grinned as Oikawa’s deep brown eyes met his own; he’d do anything for that idiot.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s mid-morning in the cottage, and the small house is already filled with the dull roar of voices. The village children had decided to stop by for their weekly lessons. They sat eagerly at the small table in the kitchen, each of them with a small book in front of them.

“Oikawa-sensei, are we learning words again today?” a small boy asked. His freckled face scrunched as he smiled up to where Oikawa stood in front of them. Oikawa’s eyes widened for a second, still unused to the formal title that he was addressed by. It had only been about a year since he had been recognized as a scholar by the academy in the city.

He’d started his studies a little after a year that he and Iwaizumi had lived together. He had gone to the closest city, one just west of the Northwoods to study at the grand library. Luckily, due to his royal-grade education, it didn’t take him long to be certified by the academy and return to their cottage.

Almost as soon as he’d returned, the village children had begun to ask him for lessons. It had started out as only two or three but had quickly grown to over ten. They were certainly a handful, especially since their only workspace happened to be the cottage. It was a tiny space but Oikawa made it work; he always did. 

Now, he took out a book from one of the bookcases near the kitchen in which the children were seated. “Yes,” he said, “We’ll be focusing on words again this week.”

He could hear the children groan and he rolled his eyes. They were so dramatic… But he smiled fondly for a moment, remembering Iwaizumi’s reactions when he had taught him to read. It was comedic, how closely his reaction mimicked those of the children.

“Why can’t we do something fun, Oikawa-sensei?” one girl whined. The others around her followed suit, their faces twisting as they tried to gain some sort of sympathy from their teacher. But Oikawa didn’t break that easily and held his ground. 

He clucked his tongue and shook his head as he opened his book. “Now, I’ll have none of that,” he said in an almost disappointed manner. “It’s important that you learn to read!”

“Exactly,” a voice grumbled from the doorway. Both Oikawa and the children whipped their heads around to face where Iwaizumi stood. He smiled as he met Oikawa’s gaze before turning to the children. “Your teacher’s right, reading is important.”

The children rolled their eyes. “Come on Iwaizumi-san, you’re supposed to be on our side,” said one of the older boys.

“It’s true. In fact, did you know that it was Oikawa who taught me to read?” This drew a surprised reaction from the children who turned to look at Oikawa, stunned. 

“Really!?”

“Really,” said Iwaizumi. “Now get back to learning.”

More groans came from the table. “Iwaizumi-san, can’t you show us another magic trick!” one of the children proposed. Excited giggles came from the rest of the children, who fervently slammed their book shut and turned to face the mage. Iwaizumi gave a sympathetic look to Oikawa, who dismissed him as he waved his hands.

“No, go on, they’re clearly more interested,” he joked as he collected the books from the table. Iwaizumi mouthed a ‘sorry’ before he opened his hands before the children. A bright light began to shine as he focused the energy into a ball in his hands. He pulled on the shape, stretching and bending it as the children watched eagerly. He closed his hands around the shape, whispering into his palms before throwing it into the air. 

Suddenly, a glowing rabbit hopped around the kitchen, jumping through the air and floating around the children who watched in awe. They laughed as the small creature explored the kitchen, wandering around the chairs before darting into the living room. They jumped from their seats as they hurried after the animal, following it as it slipped out the back door and into the yard. Oikawa watched them contentedly as they giggled from outside, chasing the creature around as it hopped through the grass.

“Sorry about your lesson,” Iwaizumi said as he took a seat at the table next to Oikawa. 

“Oh, it’s fine,” Oikawa said, leaning his head into Iwaizumi’s shoulder. He reached over to where Iwaizumi’s hands lay on the table, taking them in his own and interlocking their fingers. He let a smile come over his face as the two golden rings flashed in the morning sun. 

“How long has it been?” Iwaizumi asked. He felt Oikawa sigh happily against his shoulder as he squeezed their hands together.

“Three years?” Oikawa said, trying to remember how long ago they’d gotten the small rings. Iwaizumi took his finger, tracing it over the gold band and over the center of Oikawa’s palm. Three years, huh? He continued to draw over the center of his hand, remembering the dreaded black mark that covered it so many years ago.

“Three years isn’t too shabby,” Iwaizumi said, earning a scoff from his husband, who pulled away to look at him. There was an almost offended look in his deep, brown eyes.

“Well, I’d like at least a few more if that’s fine with you,” he said, an exasperated tone to his voice. Iwaizumi laughed, Oikawa joining him as he re-settled himself onto Iwaizumi’s shoulder.

“Definitely,” said Iwaizumi. “I’d definitely like a few more years.”

“Well you’d better,” Oikawa said. “I mean, you did promise ‘until death do us part’...” Iwaizumi grinned, pulling Oikawa closer. As Oikawa settled closer to the other’s chest, he could see a small metal pendant peeking its way out from behind Iwaizumi’s robes. He smiled as he recognized it; it was the necklace from the attic from all those years ago. The sun caught the metal, making it shine as Oikawa turned to face the light that poured in from the window. 

He let the warm light shine on his face. He smiled as he closed his eyes, feeling the contrasting cool press of the metal ring on his finger. It was a nice kind of cold, one that served to remind him of his promise, of his vow. But in the end, he didn’t really need any reminder; neither of them did. Because after so long, after so many years, they finally had what they needed. They had each other, and that was all they’d ever need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading this. It has been an absolute blast to write this and has been my longest project to date. I hope you all really enjoyed this as much as I did writing it. It means the world to me that even a few of you had fun reading it! Thanks again and have a great day!
> 
> Miscellaneous notes about the story . . .  
> -Oikawa's curse is a reflection of what happened to the village that his father destroyed; he burned it  
> -Oikawa's burn got exponentially worse along the journey because he kept getting closer to the village that the curse was laid at, making it grow stronger and more aggressive  
> -As of Chapter One, Oikawa and Iwaizumi are both 20 years old. If you use their canon birthdates, the are both 21 by the end of Chapter Six. In the Epilogue, they are both around 23 years old


	9. Extras - The Knights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas you guys!! Thank you so much for reading, I'm so glad for all the comments: it really warms my heart. Anyways, here's your Christmas present: an extra chapter! A lot of you guys were asking for a perspective of the knights... and I couldn't help myself. (I definitely got a bit carried away, but whatever) Enjoy! :)

Kyoutani tugged at the hem of his shirt, carefully tucking it into place. It was a soft garment, though not nearly as free as the usual servants' clothes. He still wasn’t quite used to how it fit, being more comfortable with armor up until a few years prior. He reminisced briefly, remembering the cold touch of metal he would feel every morning as he prepared for his duties as a squire. He shook his head:  _ No _ , he told himself,  _ you’ve left the knights behind, no use thinking about it now _ . He’d left the knights, giving up his position of squire after Oikawa had vanished. There was always a part of him that had felt guilty for the incident that had wounded the prince and subsequently led to his disappearance.

After he’d left the knights, he had joined the servant staff, working odd jobs around the castle and tending to the lesser members of the court. It was only recently, upon the coronation of Prince ‒now King‒ Yahaba, that he’d been promoted to his current position ‒ serving the king himself. Apart from the newer, more complicated uniform, he supposed that the job wasn’t all that horrible. It helped that the new king was much more tolerable than his predecessor.

Finally straightening out his shirt, he made his way to the door of his chamber. These new quarters were situated high in the palace, much farther up than the barracks, which lay on ground-level. The view from the window still made him nearly sick every time he looked out, fearing what his mangled body would look like if he were to suffer a fall from its ledge. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but be thankful for the job. Smiling, he pushed open the heavy door, walking to the throne room to begin his day.

As soon as he entered, he noticed the chattering of voices that was spread throughout the large hall. The whispers, emanating from the group of mages at the front of the room, steadily began to quiet as they seemed to reach a consensus. The king, who had been amusing himself by watching a sparrow run into the stained glass windows of the hall, now returned his attention to mages before him. He raised an eyebrow, partly in annoyance and partly in question as to what the group was to say.

“Your Grace,” one spoke. Her voice was hesitant, wobbling slightly as she continued to speak. She, like many of the court’s mages, was still hesitant to speak to any members of the nobility after the terrors that the old king had inflicted upon them. “I’m sure that you’re aware of what your father did to the royal mages upon your brother’s disappearance.” King Yahaba nodded, his eyes sharpening at the mention of the late prince.

“Well,” the girl spoke again. “We are severely understaffed. And, in order to properly perform our duties, we are in need of a few new mages or apprentices at least.” The King hummed to himself, thinking briefly on the matter. He recalled what his late father had done at the disappearance of the crown prince all those years ago. He remembered his mother staying with him in his room for a few nights, holding him tight and making him promise not to leave his room and face whatever horrors his father had created in the palace. He shivered, remembering the smell of blood that permeated the castle for weeks afterward.

“I see no reason why I shouldn’t allow it,” he responded after a while. He snapped his fingers, summoning the guards to attention. “I’ll assign you three of our most experienced to assist you in your endeavors.” The girl nodded, smiling appreciatively at the young king. It had been a while since anything had ever gotten done so quickly and efficiently around here.

“Kyoutani!” he called. He stepped forward, ready to receive whatever orders the young king would give. “I’d like you to go down to the barracks and get me three knights for this mission. I’ll leave the decision-making to you, given that you’re well-acquainted with them.” He flapped his hand in the direction of the barracks, sending the servant to do as he’d been told.

“Right on it, your grace.” He disappeared through the doors leading out of the massive throne room and turned towards the barracks. Because the throne room ‒like his chamber‒ was on the upper floors of the palace, getting down to the training grounds could be rather exhausting. When he’d finally managed to make the small journey down to the training grounds, he was greeted by a rather sorry sight. He recalled the king’s words in his mind, feeling uneasy: ‘I’ll leave the decision-making to you’. He glanced around, finding a few scrawny squires and not much else. He huffed, realizing that Yahaba may have passed the decision-making on to him because even he wasn’t sure what to do with the knights. 

The Royal Knights had fallen from their previous glory over the years, and the incident with the previous crown-prince did little to help. After watching him fall and disappear within a few days, they’d nearly lost all morale; and the king’s rage after discovering that the prince was gone only served to make matters worse. Now, the once-impressive force of knights had been reduced to lanky squires and clumsy sword-swingers.  _ Except for… _

Kyoutani snapped his head to the side, watching a dark-haired knight slip past a wall in the yard. He smiled and followed where the man had gone. He pushed past a few stacks of old armor and weaponry and into the sleeping quarters. 

“Long time, no see…” came a mumble. “You rarely ever come down here anymore…” His eyes shot up, meeting the dark eyes of Kunimi. He, unlike Kyoutani, had stayed a squire and finished his training after the prince had left. And thus, it was true; Kyoutani rarely ever made trips down to the barracks anymore: he didn’t really have a need for it. Not that he’d want many of the memories anyway.

Annoyedly, Kyoutani pushed him out of the way, finding little resistance. “Fuck off Kunimi, don’t you have some kitchen-helpers to terrorize?”

“Such foul language from a King’s servant!” he teased. “ Besides, I don’t terrorize anyone,” Kunimi scoffed.

“Lies,” came a voice from across the room. Both turned to see who had spoken, meeting the tall, leaning figure of a senior knight. 

“Kuroo!” Kyoutani exclaimed. “Just the man I was trying to find: I need to ask you something.” He pushed Kunimi aside and strode over to where the man was standing against one of the bed frames. 

“The king has asked me to choose three knights, three of our best actually, and I believe that you might be one of them.”

“Might?” Kuroo asked. “I trust you’ve seen the others.” He gestured to where the awkward clangs of metal were currently coming from on the training grounds. Kyoutani grimaced, pained at the horrible noises.

“I’ve seen them alright, which is why I’m choosing you. I just need to find two others.” He glanced around the somewhat-empty sleeping quarters. “Bokuto and Daichi wouldn’t happen to be around would they?” Kuroo let a crooked grin come over his face as his eyes raised beyond where Kyoutani stood. 

“We would.” Kyoutani turned to find the other two senior knights behind him. 

He cleared his throat, saying, “The king has a mission for the three of you, you’ll need to report to the throne room tomorrow morning at 8 o’clock sharp.” 

“I don’t suppose you could tell us anything about it?” inquired Kuroo. 

Kyoutani sighed, racking his brain for any details he could spare the three of them. “I believe you’ll be assisting the court’s mages in finding new members. They’re severely understaffed after, well, you know…” Kyoutani trailed off, the knights nodding in understanding.

“Thank you, Kyoutani. That’ll be all,” said Daichi. The three knights nodded, dismissing the servant and sending him back up to the throne room to tend to the king.

“A mission, huh? Sure has been a while since we’ve been on any of those,” Bokuto laughed, stretching his back as they walked out and into the dining hall. “It makes me feel so old.”

“You’re twenty-four, Bokuto. Stop being dramatic,” said Daichi. This, like always, sent Bokuto into a small depressive episode that was immediately cut short as lunch began to be served. However, as they began to sit at the tables and eat, Daichi couldn’t help but ponder Bokuto’s words again. The lack of missions and tasks had set back a lot of their usual training. The current knights weren’t anything like Daichi had remembered just a few years earlier. It felt like so much had changed, as if decades had passed in those few years since Oikawa’s departure.  _ And Oikawa… _ He felt his chest tighten a bit at the memory. 

“It's July,” he said quietly, but loud enough for the others to hear him.

“And? You’re just now noticing?” joked Bokuto, Kuroo laughing alongside him. But their laughter soon stilled as they read the look that had come across Daichi’s face. They were all silent for a bit before Daichi spoke up once more.

“Oikawa’s Birthday was in July; it was the twentieth, wasn’t it?” he asked. He didn’t need to ask. None of them did; they all knew the day by heart. The somber mood gathered around them, thickening like fog. 

Abruptly, Bokuto broke the mood, something he seemed to be rather good at. “Let’s do this for him then, yeah? Let's find a mage in his honor since he couldn't find one of his own.”

“You don’t know that…” Kuroo growled, defensive of the prince. 

“We do, though, don’t we? Daichi said, watching Kuroo’s sharp eyes flick over to where he sat. “He told us he’d come back if he ever was cured.” He paused. “It’s been three years.” Their eyes shifted downward, staring at the table before them in silence. It was a heavy topic, and it always had been for the three of them. There were many times they would each lay awake, wondering if their final goodbye had sentenced their friend to death. It was never easy to let him go, and it was even harder, they found, to never see him again.

“I agree with Bokuto,” Daichi said, slapping his hands down on the table. “We do this, we find a mage, and we do it for Oikawa.” He smiled, slowly eating as the same, saddened smile made its way onto the faces of the other two knights.

“For Oikawa,” said Bokuto, lifting his cup and downing whatever was left of his drink.

“For Oikawa,” repeated Kuroo, following Bokuto as he slammed his cup down on the table. They both turned to where Daichi’s pained smile had turned into a proud, victorious grin. 

“For Oikawa.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Northwoods were cold, and nothing like the serene forests of the south. From atop his horse, Daichi pulled the hood of his cloak tighter around his head in an attempt to ward off the cold. He turned to look behind him, where the other three were following. Kuroo and Bokuto rode side by side and flanking the group was Kyoutani, who had ‒much to his annoyance‒ been selected to go along with the group and assist in their search. Now, in the cold, damp forest of the Northwoods, he certainly had reason to complain about the assignment. 

“You think it’s always this cold up here?” Kyoutani asked from the back. 

“Fucking hope not,” replied Kuroo annoyedly. From the front of the group, Daichi muttered something about ‘language’, not that any of the other three bothered to listen or care.

“Dear gods, why would anyone choose to live here? Why should we even recruit a mage if they live here: they’d have to be insane!” whined Bokuto. From the front, Daichi rolled his eyes in exasperation.

“Whining about it will only make it worse. Just try to look on the bright side,” Daichi pulled open a map from his bag, unrolling the parchment. “There’s a village just up ahead, we’ll be able to find an inn there and rest.” There were some grunts of approval from the group and satisfied, they carried on through the massive and foreign forest.

It was late afternoon by the time they had reached the small village. Despite the sun being out, the cold still managed to seep in through their cloaks, and all were ready to relax by a fire for a while. As they wandered into town, they spied the inn on the opposite side of the main square. After trekking across the small square, they made their way to the inn and began to settle in for the day.

It was a quaint little village, and the inn was no different. The architecture wasn’t vastly different from the styles in the south, but the terrain upon which it was set certainly was. Unlike the low, flat plains of the southern provinces, this village ‒like many of the others that they’d encountered on their journey‒ was situated in the mountains. The rocky hills and meandering valleys were certainly a sight to see. And though he doubted it, Daichi only prayed that Oikawa had been able to see such a sight before he passed.

Before long, a grumble began to stir in the stomach of the four men and they found themselves in need of a meal. Heading to one of the pubs in town, they seated themselves at the bar and tried their best to fit in. They failed miserably, of course, succeeding only in drawing more attention to themselves in their royal attire.

“I take you all aren’t from around here?” one of the barkeeps asked, an impish smile painting his face. 

“What gave it away, the uniforms or the accents?” Daichi laughed. 

“Hmm, definitely the accents,” joked a voice from behind them, where another barkeep had been cleaning up plates. 

“So,” started the barkeep in front of them. “What brings you capital-folk all the way up here?” His eyes had an air of suspicion in them, clearly wary of the four men. 

“Looking for a mage,” said Kuroo. “We hear there’s a rather talented one around here.” The barkeep chuckled to himself. 

“Yes, the famed Mage of the Northwoods. I know who you’re talking about,” he replied.

“Perfect, so you can direct us to him! We really appreciate‒” said Bokuto. Unfortunately, his optimism was cut off by the dark-haired barkeep.

“I’m afraid you’ll have some trouble finding him though, we usually don’t divulge any personal information,” he paused to look suspiciously over the travelers. “Especially not to strangers…” Daichi laughed quietly before responding, trying to ward off any qualms the townspeople may have about them.

“Don’t worry, we're not here to kill him or anything.”

“Convincing,” muttered the other barkeep, a shorter, strawberry-haired man who had sauntered back behind the counter. “But I don’t think I know where he lives anyway. Do you Mattsun?” The sarcasm in their speech was palpable and it soon became clear that the knights weren’t welcome to prod any further.

“I don’t think I do,” replied the other. He turned back to the knights, shrugging his shoulders: “I guess you’ll have to ask someone else.” A grumble came from Bokuto, clearly annoyed by the antics of the two barkeeps. Beside him, Kyoutani rolled his eyes, moving to stand. The knights watched him as he pushed in his chair. Exasperated, he waved his hand at them.

“Come on, we’ve got to find the guy somehow, even if we won’t get help from those two,” he said, pointing over at the two barkeeps, both of which had donned matching mischievous grins. He made for the door while the other three paid and grabbed their cloaks. They bid farewell to the odd pair of barkeeps and stumbled into the main square of the village. There were plenty of people milling about, and the knights took the opportunity to ask around for the mage’s whereabouts. 

They’d split up, and even with their small numbers, their uniforms were able to garner enough attention to get answers from the townspeople. To their surprise, many of the people were far friendlier than the barkeeps had been. Daichi, who had taken along Kyoutani, was speaking with a farmer. To his chagrin, the farmer was rather old and seemed to have trouble staying on topic. In boredom and perhaps a little bit of exhaustion, he settled his eyes somewhere off in the distance, trying to block out the man’s pointless stories. As he allowed his eyes to wander away from the conversation, he noticed the bustling of the people around him. 

One person, in particular, caught his eye, though. They zipped through the crowd, wearing a long, black cloak that fluttered behind them. The townspeople parted to let him through, moving as he dodged and dashed between them. It wasn’t long before they had made their way beyond the main section of the square, turning into a wide street at the end. As the late-day sunlight caught the tails of their cloak, the golden detailing at the ends shone. It was an odd detail, but one that struck Daichi as familiar. That embroidery, that design… 

“A Mage,” he muttered to himself. Kyoutani, who had been reluctantly listening to the man in front of him had heard Daichi’s words. 

“What?” he asked, confused at what Daichi had said just a moment before. Daichi whipped his head around excitedly as he turned to face Kyoutani. 

“A Mage,” he said, louder this time. “Over there.” He pointed to where the dark-cloaked figure was walking away down the street. Kyoutani’s eyes widened, clearly surprised by Daichi’s findings. He nodded, apologizing briefly to the farmer before motioning for Daichi to lead the way. 

Finding Bokuto and Kuroo was never a difficult task, as their mutually-spiky hair was rather noticeable, even from a distance. Reaching them in the middle of the square, Daichi pulled them away from the locals, urging them to follow him. 

“Whoa, Whoa, wait a minute Daichi,” said Bokuto. “We were gonna find out where the-”

“Already ahead of you,” explained Daichi, cutting the other off before he could offer any more complaints. He pointed to the street ahead of them, which they had begun to walk to at a particularly quick pace. “A Mage just turned down that street; If they’re not the one we’re looking for, then they’re bound to know where the other is.” Nodding, the other two knights followed closely behind, racing towards the street.

It wasn’t long before they reached the corner, turning and making their way down the street. Up ahead, they could make out the dark shape flitting in between more small crowds that had begun to form. With so many people, it was nearly impossible to keep up, but the distinctive cloak never allowed the mage to completely go out of view. Mimicking their motions, the knights darted in and out of the spaces in the street, trying to catch up to the mage, but failing consistently. At some point, it seemed that the mage had sped up as if they knew they were being followed. 

The street was only so long in the small village and eventually began to turn into the more rural scenery that they had encountered towards the edges of the village. Before long, they had reached the inn that lay on the outskirts of town where the street began to resemble the countryside paths that they had traveled on their way in. The crowds had thinned considerably and only a few people milled about the cobbled area. This lack of cover made the mage easier to spot, and the group sped up as they tried to get even with the mage. 

The knights became confused, however, as they continued to walk towards the edge of town.  _ Where were they going? _ Nearing the inn and tavern hat lay at the edge of the road, the cloaked figure made their way to a nearby tree where a horse had been tied. It was a great white steed, which the mage mounted with ease. The mage turned the horse away from the tree, guiding it back to the path to where the knights were still walking. 

Waving, Kuroo tried to get the attention of the mage. He succeeded, managing to turn the cloaked head of the figure atop the horse. However, this victory was short-lived as they watched the mage spur the horse on, kicking it into a full gallop as they sped away from the town. At a loss for words, they turned to Daichi, who was just as flabbergasted as the rest of them were. 

As he watched the mage speed away towards the forest, his mind snapped back into action. He started to run, urging the other to follow behind as he quickly made for the inn’s stables. 

“Come on!” he shouted, reaching the stall doors and mounting his horse. Once they had all mounted, they spurred their horses on, following Daichi’s command and following the mage into the woods. Luckily enough, the mage hadn’t gotten terribly far, and their combination of the white horse and black cloak made them hard to lose, even in the dense foliage of the Northwoods. 

As they pursued, the gap between the knights and the mage grew smaller and smaller. The setting sun cast dramatic lighting across the chase through the forest. But as beautiful as the bright, fiery colors were as they shone through the leaves, they also cast odd, dancing shadows across the forest floor. To the mage and the knights, such shadows weren’t nearly as disconcerting as they were to the horses, particularly the large, white stallion that raced ahead of them. 

Suddenly, as the combination of trees, branches, and light became too much to bear for the mage’s horse, they were thrown from their steed, tossed to the ground as the horse bucked and kicked around. As the horse continued to spook at the shifting shadows, the knights slowed their horses to a trot, bringing them in a small circle around where the mage stood in the center of the path. Slowing their steeds to a stop, they all dismounted, joining the mage where he stood on the forest floor. 

No one was quite sure what to say, but as they gathered their thoughts, Daichi ‒ as usual‒ spoke first. “We bear you no ill will, good sir,” he said, inching closer to where the mage stood in the center. “We come with an offer from the‒”

Suddenly, the shrill sound of scraping metal erupted from where the mage was standing. As his head shot up, Daichi noticed the grand sword that the mage was now brandishing. The knights at the edge of the circle drew their weapons as well but did not move any closer, still wary of this unknown figure. Daichi moved to draw his own sword, but he had barely moved before the mage lunged toward him, taking a broad, threatening swing in his direction. His sword was heavy and sliced through the air with an audible swipe. 

Placing his hand on the pommel of his sword, he grabbed at the base of his weapon and unsheathed it. Luckily, his move came just in time to block a hit from the mage in front of him. Taken aback by the attack, he shuffled his feet awkwardly behind him, trying to plant them to gain a better stance. Once he had settled himself, he refocused on the man ahead of him. 

His eyes, though somewhat impaired by the straining sunlight, were able to glance over the mage. As his eyes trailed downwards, he noticed the quality of the sword. It was well-made, a strong and dependable blade by the looks of it: expensive too. But as his gaze traveled further down the blade, he caught sight of the hilt. What was visible of the hilt was covered in intricate patterns, designs that snaked their way across the heavy metal: designs that he’d seen before. Stiffening, Daichi felt his heart do a flip in unison with his stomach. His brain buzzed and he froze, going rigid as he did all he could to not collapse.

His eyes raced upwards, staring under the black hood of the mage to where his features remained mostly obscured. The darkening of the forest made his efforts to discover the identity of the mage futile, but he continued to stare anyway. The cloaked man, on the other hand, took advantage of the knight’s distraction and used the flat of his sword to push the knight to the ground. 

Clambering on top of the fallen soldier, he aimed the blade towards the chest of the other, threatening. The knight did not move, and the cloaked man became confused at the sudden loss of concentration of the knight before him. He let his eyes strain in the dim lighting to look closer at the knight, the hold on his sword faltering as their eyes met. 

Much to the surprise of the surrounding knights, the mage’s sword dropped, coming to rest at the mage’s side as he stood above the knight. He backed away, almost as if he was suddenly frightened of the knight that he’d so easily overtaken. 

“No,” came the voice of the cloaked man. “No that’s‒ it can’t be…” he muttered to himself, shaking his head. The surrounding knights hadn’t a clue as to the events that had just unfolded and lowered their swords in confusion. For a moment, the world was still; only the sound of the rushing wind could be heard as it blew leisurely through the trees. 

“Daichi?” came the voice again, cracking towards the last syllable. The fallen knight perked up, sitting upright as he turned to face where the cloaked man stood a few meters away. Around them, the other knights' swords raised, wary of this stranger that somehow knew their fellow knight's name. Rushing forward, Bokuto raised his sword and used the dull edge to push the hooded figure back to the ground. 

“How do you know his name!?” He yelled, trying to sound much more intimidating than he was currently feeling. The mage offered no response and sat up while shoving his arms to the knight’s chest, throwing him off. For a moment, Bokuto sputtered, trying to regain the upper hand. But when he looked up again, in the soft glow of dusk, he saw that the stranger’s hood had come off, revealing his face to the world. 

Bokuto could make out a piercing set of brown eyes and pale skin. His hair was brown and ruffled, likely from the combination of the fall and the short skirmish just a few moments earlier. Even in the darkening forest, Bokuto recognized the face of the man; it was a face he’d recognize anywhere.

“Oikawa,” he said. There was not a hint of questioning in his voice; it was more of a shocked observation. And from the edge of the group, Kuroo sucked in a quaking breath, as did Kyoutani beside him. The silence was almost scary as the woods grew darker around them, but it was soon broken as Bokuto leapt forward, tackling Oikawa into the dirt and leaves of the forest floor.

“Holy shit,” muttered Kuroo as he dropped his sword, letting it clatter to the ground as he stepped forward. His steps changed from a cautious walk to a near sprint. Dropping down, he joined Bokuto in the group hug, feeling his eyes grow hot as he squeezed them shut. Try as they might, the small sounds of broken sobs and sniffles made their way out of their chests as they held onto each other tighter. 

After a moment, the knights allowed Oikawa to sit up for a second, dusting himself off briefly as he looked over to where Daichi still lay. His eyes, though misty, were staring clearly at the missing prince. He opened his mouth to speak, choking on his words. He elected to remain silent, choosing to scoot closer instead of attempting to speak. 

“Kyoutani,” Oikawa said, calling to the silent servant still standing a couple of meters away. The prince smiled slightly as he spoke again: “I know you missed me too.” A nervous laugh came from Kyoutani’s chest, and he made his way over to where the rest of the group lay on the ground. It must have been an odd scene, the five of them laying together on the cold ground, but it was comforting nonetheless.

“Where the hell have you been?” Daichi managed to get out, pulling away from the group for a second. But before Oikawa could speak, the knight took his hand, flipping it over to look at his palm. Much to his surprise, it was perfectly normal, not even a trace of the angry black mark that had appeared just a few years earlier. His eyes widened as he looked up to meet Oikawa’s gaze. 

“Well, around here for a few years now, I suppose.” He placed a finger to his lips, tapping them as he thought of the time that he’d spent here in the Northwoods.

“And you’re… fine?” asked Bokuto, peering over to where Daichi had Oikawa’s palm on display. Each of the travelers took time to look it over, inspecting it. 

“Yes. I know it might be hard to believe; trust me, there are still times where it doesn’t seem real.” He reminisced, looking at his hand. He remembered the mark snaking up his wrist, how it had made its way past his elbow and curling down his side to his legs. He shivered at the thought. 

“So,” Kuroo started. “You cured it yourself?” He tugged at the cloak that Oikawa was wearing, asking for an explanation for its mystical origins.

“Oh, no, not by myself,” Oikawa responded. 

“Then what’s this?” Bokuto inquired, joining Kuroo as he took part of the dark fabric, raising it to Oikawa’s line of sight. “It’s a mage’s cloak, I know that much,” said Bokuto. “Are you…?”

“No, no it isn’t mine. I don’t think I could ever be a mage,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “Too much training; not sure that I’d be cut out for it.” He watched as a confused look passed over the faces of the four travelers. “I’ve borrowed this cloak, it’s not mine,” Oikawa explained. “Did you… think that I was a mage?”

“We’ve been searching all over for this mystical ‘Mage of the Northwoods’ and the first lead we find sprints away from us,” Kuroo explained. “Why do you think we were chasing you?” Kyoutani asked, adding into the conversation. 

“Oh, I tend to try and leave town whenever any palace guards show up.”

“Why?” all four asked in unison. 

“Well, I’m not exactly supposed to be alive… You know, could start a war of succession and all; wouldn’t want that,” Oikawa said. He laughed for a second. “You really thought I was a mage?”

“You were wearing the cloak! Who else were we gonna follow?” shouted Bokuto.

“Maybe you should learn to follow people a bit more subtly. Scaring them into the forest isn’t usually a great first impression.” They laughed as they stood, dusting themselves off and removing any leaves and pine needles stuck to their clothes. The Sun had set, leaving the woods bathed in a dull glow from the moon. The softer lighting made it easier for the knights to see the prince, cementing the fact that he was still alive in their minds. 

“I still can’t believe you’re alive…” said Daichi, shaking his head as if trying to awaken himself from a dream. “Why,” he started, grimacing at the next words to come. “Why didn’t you ever come back?” A pained look crossed both his and Oikawa’s face; the other three looked on. The question had been lingering between them for a while; it was inevitable. 

“I- I couldn’t,” said Oikawa. He turned, whipping his head around to look each of the four travelers in the eyes. “You know that right? If I came back to the capital, there’d be wars, there’d be death; I can’t do that.” The knights pondered his answer for a second. “I wanted to. I’ve always wanted to go back; that was my home, it’s where I grew up,” he paused. “But I can’t.”

The knights, though pained, understood what Oikawa meant. If he’d come back a few years before, his father would’ve killed him, and probably a few others to serve as a warning. But if he’d come back now, the entire court would be rearranged, throwing the whole country into chaos. 

“And you’re... just fine with that? I mean, you are the crown prince: the throne is your birthright,” said Kuroo. Oikawa shook his head.

“The crown belongs to Yahaba; I don’t think I’m very much cut out for being a king anyway,” he explained. “Besides, it’s not awful up here.”

“I’d beg to differ,” grumbled Kyoutani.

“I agree with Kyoutani. It is perfectly miserable out here,” stated Bokuto. “It’s cold and rainy and boring.” Oikawa rolled his eyes as he walked over to fetch his horse. 

“It’s not so cold if you go inside.” Oikawa jumped up, swiftly mounting his horse while waving his arm. “Come on, I’ve got a place out here,” he glanced over to Bokuto, looking him in the eyes. “Don’t worry it’s got a fireplace.” Following closely behind, the four of them mounted and set off behind Oikawa.

Speeding up, Oikawa called back to the travelers behind them: “We’d better get going: these woods aren't the safest at night.” Kicking their horse forward, they followed Oikawa down the winding path, snaking through the trees in wide loops and curves. Before long, Oikawa slowed to a trot, allowing the rest to catch up. They walked together for a bit before they saw a glow up ahead. Through the trees, the travelers could make out a large clearing with a cottage and a barn. A small gate stood ahead at the end of the path. Dismounting, Oikawa opened the gate and led his horse through, allowing the others to follow him.

“There’s space in the barn for a few extra horses, so you can put them in there,” Oikawa said as he opened the doors to the barn, leading himself and his horse inside. As they untacked, the knights looked around the barn, admiring the clean yet rustic look of the build. 

“Come on, let's go inside,” said Oikawa as he walked out of the barn, making his way across the way to the cottage. It was a nice house, constructed solidly of stone and wood with two floors. On the outside, there were several serene trails of ivy that made their way up the walls. On the inside, there was a quaint kitchen connected to a small living room. It was much smaller than the travelers were used to, even smaller than the sleeping quarters in the barracks.

“We’ve got a room upstairs for you all to stay, though it might be a bit cramped,” said Oikawa, rubbing his finger across his mouth, thinking of a way to solve the spacing issue. 

“‘We’ve’?” Kuroo asked, smirking.

Oikawa collected his thoughts enough to turn back to the spiky-haired knight. “You didn’t think I lived all alone out here, did you?” 

“Then who do you live with?” asked Bokuto, running his hands along one of the bookcases near the fireplace. Taking off his cloak, Oikawa tossed it at Bokuto.

“Who do you think I got the cloak from?” asked Oikawa, smiling mischievously.

Looking around, Daichi didn’t wait for Bokuto to connect the dots himself. “You live with the mage!?” Daichi asked, an incredulous look passing over his face. 

“Naturally,” Oikawa said, flashing a smile. He walked across the ornate rug on the floor of the living room and turned to go up the staircase. He wiggled his fingers, showing off a shiny gold ring as his grin grew wider. “I’m married to him.” With no further comment, he waltzed up the stairs, leaving the four men in the living room silent in disbelief. 

When Oikawa returned, he beckoned them to follow him up the stairs. He showed them the spare room, which, ‒as he promised‒ was rather small. Of course, the knights didn’t complain as it was probably the most comfortable place they had rested since they set off from the capital. Oikawa left to fetch some blankets, coming back to make a few makeshift beds for the knights that wouldn’t be able to fit in the small bed. Once they had settled, taking off their boots and such, they couldn’t help but look around the room, investigating each nook and cranny. 

There was a large bookshelf on one end with different manuscripts precariously perched on the shelves, threatening to fall at a moment's notice. Patterned curtains hung over the window near the bed and assorted shelves had been filled with trinkets and jars. It was odd and yet at the same time, it felt comfortable, like a home truly should. 

“Oikawa,” said Kuroo.

“Hmm?” the prince responded as he unfolded another quilt to set on the ground. 

“You said that you live with the mage, but… where exactly is he?” 

“I’m afraid he’s out of town at the moment, why?” Oikawa asked. 

“We’ve come with a proposition from the king; the mages need a few more people among their ranks and we were sent out to do some recruiting,” Daichi explained. Oikawa nodded his head. 

“Awful long way to travel…” the prince pointed out. 

“Not much of a choice on our end,” said Bokuto. “Trust me, if we’d found enough volunteers from any of the coastal cities, we would’ve stopped there.”

“Unfortunately, I suppose we’ll be needing to travel further to find this mage of yours,” Daichi said to Oikawa. 

“Not to worry!” chirped Oikawa. “If you need, I’ll escort you to the city: it can be a bit dangerous on the way.”

“We’re trained knights, Oikawa, I think we can handle it,” said Bokuto. Oikawa’s shoulders dropped along with his face as a small ‘oh’ came from him. But Bokuto corrected himself immediately: “Not that we don’t want you to come with!” In an instant, Oikawa’s smile returned, bright as ever. 

“So, it’s settled,” he said, clapping his hands together. “Do we want to leave in the morning?” he asked, hanging off the doorframe while moving to leave the room. The knights nodded, smiling back at Oikawa. A great grin spread over Oikawa’s face as he blew out the candles and bid good night to the four of them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The journey so far had been filled with stormy and cold days: miserable for getting anywhere. However, this morning, as they traveled through the woods with Oikawa, they found that the conditions were much nicer. They had left the cottage at dawn, watching the sunrise as it broke through the soaring trees and peeked through the woven branches. For once, they were able to enjoy the breathtaking scenery around them, though the awed silence didn't last for long.

“So, Oikawa,” said Kuroo. “Is the ring new? It certainly is for us.” He laughed a bit at the last part, as did the other three beside him.

“I’ll have you know that it is  _ not  _ new, Kuroo,” Oikawa said from up front, tossing his head dramatically. His eyes trailed down to where his hands held the reins, looking affectionately at the ring on his hand. “It’s a few years old,” he explained, twisting his hand to make the gold catch the light that poked through the canopy of the forest.

_ A few years? _ It hadn’t been that long since Oikawa had left the palace, certainly not a long time for someone to up and get married. Intrigued, the knights prodded further: “If it's been a few years, then that means you would've had to have gotten married rather quickly after you left, right?”

“Yes, how observant of you,” replied Oikawa. 

“So you just met this guy and decided that was it?” Daichi asked, a bit skeptical. “That doesn’t really sound like you.” Oikawa was the careful type, always calculating and formulating his next move. Making impulse decisions was never his forte, unlike a few other members of the group. 

“Yes, I know; trust me, it surprised me too,” he said, thinking back to how it had started. “It all happened so fast: the curse, the journey, the spell, everything.” He had to admit, it really wasn’t like him to jump into things so quickly. However, none of his previous inhibitions seemed to matter when it came to Iwaizumi: he never really worried about going too fast.

“Wait, ‘the spell’?” asked Bokuto. “What spell? you never told us about a spell!”

“Haven’t really had time to,” Oikawa pointed out. Looking up through the trees, seeing the sun still low in the East.  _ He certainly had time to pass, so what would a story hurt? _ “I suppose I could tell you though,” he said.

“I’d basically given up by the time I’d met Iwaizumi. You see, he was a mage’s apprentice ‒not that he told me that for a while‒ and his master, the  _ original  _ Mage of the Northwoods, had died. That was my last chance, so I decided that I wouldn’t risk going back; instead, I convinced Iwaizumi that I was a good helping hand around the cottage ‒ which I did prove myself to be. He allowed me to stay and that was it for a while. Weeks went by with little problem, other than the curse spreading.”

“It spread?” asked Daichi, who had been the only one of the group to ever get a closer look at the wound. 

Oikawa nodded in response, expression turning grim: “A lot. And by the end of that July, it was up to my elbow. We had been riding in the forest one day when I had an episode like the one where I was sparring with Kyoutani. Except for this time, I fell from my horse and landed rather unceremoniously on the ground. I woke up in bed, my gloves were off and my sleeves were rolled up, so I knew that Iwaizumi had to have seen the wound. At this point, I knew of his background and understood that he was well-versed in the ways of magic and knew what the mark was: a curse. After I’d gotten done explaining the nature of the curse, he offered to try and fix it.”

“And it worked!” said Kuroo, but Oikawa shook his head.

“I wish it would’ve been that easy. No, we went through the mountains to a ruined village in the West: it had a flower we needed for the spell to work. We got there and found it, but the curse had only gotten more severe as we traveled farther. I couldn’t move when we were in the grove that was the village, as it had spread down to my feet and along my sides, making it impossible to walk.”

Around him, the knights shuddered, horrified at the image that Oikawa had just described. “But the spell, it worked and you got better,” said Bokuto, urging Oikawa to finish the story with a happy ending.

Much to his dismay, Oikawa shook his head, a small frown creeping over his mouth. “No, actually, it didn’t.”

“So… what happened?” questioned Daichi, perplexed by the odd nature of the prince’s answer.

Oikawa took a deep breath, humming as he let it out, trying to find a good way to say it. “I died,” he said softly. The knights seemed to all catch their breaths for a moment, clearly stunned by the response.  _ He’d died? _ The thought itself hadn’t been a foreign one, but the weight of knowing that it had been real was devastating, even if he was still here now.

“You-” Kuroo cleared his throat, trying to shake away some of the emotion that threatened to shake his voice. “You died?” The question was empty and needed no further confirmation, but Oikawa nodded his head anyway. 

“It was weird: I felt all hot and then like nothing, just like everything and nothing all at once,” he paused. “Soon after, I opened my eyes and I was still in the grove. It was just empty, well, except for one other person.”

“Iwaizumi?”

“No, it was a woman. She was glowing almost, I don't quite remember, but I could tell she wasn’t human, not anymore. She kind of just sat me down and told me what had happened,” Oikawa paused, gauging the reactions of the group before him. “She was actually the one who laid the curse. The problem was, only she could remove it: some loophole that even I don’t really understand, you'd have to ask Iwaizumi.”

The knights looked confused, so Oikawa tried to offer more of an explanation. Elaborating further, he said, “She laid an indirect curse ‒a firstborn curse‒ on my father, which, in turn, affected me. He burned her village to the ground, just as he had with many other villages in his early campaigns.” The knights nodded, still somewhat confused, but attempting to understand. “Essentially, because only she could remove it, I had to die to meet her in the afterlife for her to break it,” Oikawa finished. 

“And she did?” asked Bokuto hesitantly. 

Oikawa smiled happily: “She did. I woke up back in the real grove next to Iwaizumi. I remember looking around and seeing the spirits of the old village; they disappeared as the sun came up. The next thing I know, we’re heading back to the cottage. And if I remember correctly, it was a few weeks later that this,” he wiggled his fingers to show off the gold band, “came along.”

The image that had just been planted in the knights’ heads was grim. They’d imagined what had happened to Oikawa, theorizing what could have happened to him on the journey. However, none had been so dark as the reality that had been conveyed to them just now. But despite the morbid mood of the story, Oikawa seemed to remain in a pleasant mood as he rode on in front of them.

“A few other things happened between then and now, obviously,” Oikawa continued, shaking the knights from their silence. “But I think I’d like to hear about your stories too.” He flashed a signature smile, one that the knights had known so well; it sent a pang through each of their chests. They grinned back, knowing the smile well: understanding how good it was to finally see it again after all these years. They couldn’t help but notice a slight change in the smile though. Something there was foreign and unknown, something that had changed in his absence. 

He had come to find himself in these years away. Gone was the somewhat-spoiled youth and careless arrogance; in its place was the kind, strong man before them. It became more evident with every story and detail just how much he had grown. Their chests squeezed, tightening at the idea that they had grown apart. After all this time, they had found him. As the day began to pass, the sun crossing the clear sky above them, they came to realize the prince before them was still Oikawa, but he was no longer their Oikawa. That Oikawa had (quite literally) come to pass. 

Bittersweetly, the unbreakable bond between them had seemed to crack ever so slightly. It was odd though, that none of them seemed to shed a tear. How could they? How could they be upset that their friend was alive and well? He’d managed to do the unthinkable: he’d survived and made a life for himself. They couldn’t help but be proud of him, they’d always be proud of him. And so, even as they began to drift apart, they smiled. They smiled brightly as the summer sun, uncaring and free, finding joy in life’s simplest moments. They smiled for the prince, they smiled for the kingdom, and they smiled for themselves. And all around them, the world seemed to smile in unison.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The city wasn’t anything new for the knights, as they had passed through briefly on their way to the village. However, they hadn’t truly explored the city, making the sight of the Guild Temple a rather spectacular one. It was a massive place with huge columns, courtyards, and a glass dome that was perched on top of the main hall. Oikawa, who had led them to the entrance of the building so far, had only been inside a few times, as it was rare for anyone who wasn’t a mage or apprentice to be allowed inside. He supposed he managed to get some perks by marrying one of the top mages though…

They had been led through a large gate, passing into a grand plaza that stretched out for almost a hundred meters in front of them. Oikawa walked his horse over to one of the small trees that lined the area, dismounting and tying up the horse.

“We aren’t allowed to use any horses past this point,” Oikawa explained as the knights followed his example and tied their mounts. As they walked through the rest of the plaza, their eyes wandered to the scenery around them. The stone columns were a pristine white with different banners and insignias hung in and around them. Up ahead, there was a large, open set of steps that led up to the grand building that stood before them. 

They stepped up the stairs, trying to keep their jaws from dropping at the sight. It was reminiscent of the palace, and the guards that stood by the heavy doors fit the image just as well. Though they wore no armor, they were still foreboding in a way that none of the palace knights had ever known.

“State your business,” came the monotone voice of one of the guards. His eyes were a startling blue and they seemed to strike just a tiny bit of fear into the travelers. Everyone except Oikawa, that was. 

“Oh don’t bother with the formality, Tobio, you know why I’m here,” Oikawa said, pushing past him easily. The knights were, of course, surprised at his nonchalance and the fact that he’d known the guard, who was currently sporting an annoyed look. 

“The formalities are here to ensure the safety of all that enter the temple,” he growled. 

Oikawa waved his hand: “You know who I am and you know who I’m here for, is that not enough?”

“It  _ isn’t  _ enough, actually, because this time,” he paused to thrust a finger out at the four travelers, “you’ve brought company.” The knights looked at each other anxiously, turning to Oikawa with wide eyes. In response, Oikawa rolled his eyes. He walked back to where the knights were standing, grabbing Kuroo by the arm and dragging him along. 

“They’re with me,” Oikawa said bluntly.

“But-” the guard tried to say.

“Tobio, can you think of a reason that I’d purposely endanger anyone in there?” The guard opened his mouth, but closed it soon after, finding nothing to say. 

“Just don’t be an idiot,” he said as he moved to open the doors. 

“I don’t make any promises,” Oikawa said as he pulled the knights through to the inside of the temple. If they’d thought that the outside was beautiful, then they were certainly stunned at the inside as well. The stained glass of the windows let multicolored shadows dance together on the ground. The walls were carved with intricate designs, patterns of swirling clouds and flowing rivers. While the knights were preoccupied with staring, Oikawa began to approach one of the people inside. 

“Yachi!” he said, causing the girl to turn her head. Her eyes widened a bit as she set the stack of books that she’d been carrying down. 

“Oikawa-san, why are you here?” she asked, she glanced nervously over to where the knights stood. “And who are they?”

“I'm escorting them, they’re some of my old friends from the palace and they’ve got some business here.” Yachi nodded but continued to look shyly at the group, which was still looking around at the walls. “You wouldn’t happen to know where Iwaizumi is, would you?” Oikawa asked, regaining her attention.

“Oh!” she said. “Of course, he’s in the grand study, I believe.” Oikawa smiled, thanking her as he turned back to his friends. 

“Come on guys,” he said, waving his hand to call them over. “I think I’ve found who you’re looking for.”

Pushing through the main hall, they made their way to a new set of stairs that curled up to a second floor of the temple. This floor overlooked another section of the building, a library it seemed. Making his way to another set of doors, Oikawa pushed them open, revealing a new room. It was reminiscent of the studies in the Palace libraries, with books stacked neatly in rows of cases that lined the rounded walls. The entire place was bathed in bright light, and as the group looked up, they saw that the room was encased by the huge glass dome that they had seen outside. 

In the center were a few people, who paused to look up from where they had been studying just a few moments earlier. One of them, a blue-robed man with dark, spiked hair, stood up and turned to look at the group that had just walked in. A confused look appeared on his face as his eyes shifted to where Oikawa stood in front of the group. 

“Tooru, what are you doing here? Is there something wrong?” The man’s expression shifted to one of concern as he began to walk over to where Oikawa stood. 

“No, no, nothing’s wrong,” Oikawa began to explain. He was about to say more, but the other cut him off, pulling him closer to whisper to him.

“Those are palace guards, you know that right?” His voice sounded worried and cautious of the strangers beside him. “What’s going on?”

“Iwa-chan, relax; they’re some of my old friends.” The man seemed to lose some of his previous tension as Oikawa explained the guards’ presence. “They’ve actually come to see you, apparently you’ve developed quite the reputation.” Yet another confused look came over Iwaizumi’s face as he turned to face the group next to him.

“I should explain,” said Daichi, stepping forward. “We come with an opportunity from the king.” 

Iwaizumi’s eyes narrowed. “Why does the king want anything to do with me?” he asked. “It’s not his fault is it?” He pointed to Oikawa, who yelped ‘hey!’ at him indignantly. 

“I can assure you it isn’t,” Daichi said. “The mages at court, to put it lightly, their numbers were… reduced by the former king. We were sent on behalf of the new king to offer you a position at court, as a royal mage.” Stunned, Iwaizumi stepped back for a moment. His eyes darted over to where Oikawa was standing as his mouth parted to speak. 

“I- Why me, haven’t you found plenty of others?” 

Daichi shook his head. “No, actually, we haven’t.” Iwaizumi seemed to consider this but shook his head. 

“I’d hate to turn you down, but I can’t.” Daichi’s shoulders dropped in disappointment. “However, I believe I might be able to solve your problem, at least a little bit. Follow me.” They followed him to the center of the large room, to where three others were still seated at a table. 

“I’d like you to meet some of my most promising students and another member of the guild,” said Iwaizumi. “This,” he said, gesturing to a silver-haired man seated at the table. “Is my colleague, Sugawara Koushi.” The man stood up, straightening his robes.

“Just call me Suga, that's fine,” he said.

“Or ‘Refreshing-kun’,” added Oikawa. With one sidelong glance, Daichi had to admit that the nickname definitely fit.

“Don’t listen to him,” said Suga, rolling his eyes. 

“Trust me,” said Daichi. “We’ve learned not to.” Oikawa let out a squawk, but it was glazed over as Iwaizumi continued to speak. 

“Suga is one of the many mages we have employed in the guild. He’s one hell of a healer, but he mostly helps me tutor a few of the apprentices that study here.” Motioning towards the other two men that sat at the table, Iwaizumi began to introduce them. “Akaashi Keiji,” he said as he gestured to the lithe, black-haired man, “and Kozume Kenma,” he pointed towards the man with long hair and yellow eyes, “are two of our most promising at the moment.” Their eyes widened, somewhat taken aback by the praise, but they stood and bowed before the travelers. 

“If they were to be initiated as members of the guild, they would need experience: preferably field-work. And I assume there are plenty of opportunities for royal mages, yes?” Iwaizumi asked, turning back to look at Daichi.

“I’m not very well-acquainted with the opportunities and work-load of the mages, we don’t interact very frequently at court,” responded Daichi. “Oikawa, however…” He glanced towards the former crown-prince, silently asking for his advice.

“Hmm, well Refreshing-kun is a healer, they were always in need of those at the palace,” he paused for a moment. “What are the apprentices’ specialties?”

“Akaashi works well with protective magic, wards and such,” said Suga. “Kenma on the other hand is more experienced with enchantments and charms.”

“Well, I certainly can’t speak on behalf of the current court, but previously the royal mages were always in need of specialists,” added Oikawa. 

“They’re only students, though,” said Iwaizumi. “They’d need a supervisor.” He looked at Suga.

“You’re an experienced mage, right? And a healer too; I’m sure that royal mages would have no objection to your addition,” said Daichi. The silver-haired mage seemed to consider this for a second, glancing back to the apprentices, who seemed just as curious at the opportunity. It was an exciting possibility, one that would probably never resurface if not taken now.

Suga’s eyes looked around cautiously before he nodded his head. “I’ll do it.” A breath of relief escaped from Daichi, along with the rest of the knights. At least they had found one mage to bring back from the journey. They looked back at the other two, the apprentices, waiting for an answer. Looking at each other, they nodded like Suga, agreeing to join him.

“Thank the gods,” said Kuroo. 

“We’ll actually have something to show for this!” Bokuto exclaimed triumphantly. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, what was the purpose of your journey here?” asked Akaashi. Bokuto’s loud outburst was silenced immediately. 

“We were sent to recruit more mages for the palace, we’ve had no luck up until now,” explained Kuroo, taking advantage of Bokuto’s momentary silence.

“Is the palace nice? I hear that it’s a lot like this temple,” asked Akaashi curiously. 

“It is!” shouted Bokuto, slightly startling the apprentice once more. “It’s got columns like this too, and a big library and orchards and gardens. There’s a whole bunch of courtyards with lots of ponds and flowers…” he yapped on excitedly as Akaashi listened to him quietly, letting his head rest on his hand.

“He sure is loud,” muttered a voice from beside Kuroo. “I wonder if he talks like that all the time.” Kuroo looked to find the other apprentice standing near him. 

“Most of the time, yes, he is,” Kuroo answered, grinning. This response was much to the dismay of the other as he groaned slightly. 

“And how far do you suppose it is to the castle?” asked Kenma.

“A few weeks at best.”

“I’ll die,” he said softly, a horrified tone taking over his voice. Kuroo couldn’t help but let a small laugh tumble out of his mouth at the sincere nature of his voice.

“Dying might be a bit harsh. Don’t worry, I’ll help distract you if you like,” suggested Kuroo.

“I think I might take you up on the offer,” said Kenma plainly. He paused for a moment. Smiling a bit before speaking again. “What’s your name?”

“Kuroo. Kuroo Tetsurou. The other,” he pointed to where Bokuto was now eagerly retelling the story of the time Oikawa had fallen and broken his arm in the orchards, hands flapping wildly at every detail, “is Bokuto. And he,” he pointed to where Daichi, the captain of their group was planning map detail with Suga, “is Daichi.” 

“And the angry blond?” Kenma motioned to where Kyoutani stood in the corner. 

“Oh, that’s Kyoutani. He’s not so bad, just looks a little feral,” Kuroo joked. Managing to pull a laugh from the apprentice. 

“Is he a knight like you? His scowl definitely fits the image,” said Kenma. 

“No, actually. He’s a servant to the King, though some might say he’s more than that…” Kuroo said as Kenma gave a confused look. 

“What do you mean by that?” asked Kenma.

Kuroo let a chuckle escape from him. “Nothing, nothing. Let’s go see what Daichi’s planning for the way back, maybe get away from the noise a bit,” he added, gesturing to Boktuo and Akaashi, who were seated at the table, talking still. They chatted on, as did Kenma and Kuroo as they approached Daichi and Suga. From a few meters away, Iwaizumi and Oikawa were seated at a table, watching the knights and mages around them.

“You think you made the right choice?” asked Oikawa, drawing Iwaizumi’s attention away from the others and back to him. “I mean, being a royal mage is a pretty big deal and all.” 

Iwaizumi flicked his head, earning a whine from Oikawa. “You’re stupid, you know that?” Oikawa opened his mouth to protest, but Iwaizumi continued speaking. “Almost four years and you think I’d give up on you that easily.” Oikawa pursed his lips together, blushing a bit as he turned to shield his face from Iwaizumi’s gaze. 

“I was just suggesting that you shouldn’t let yourself be confined to this place because of me. Just because I can’t go to the capital, doesn’t mean that you can’t.” His voice was soft, quieter and far more reserved than normal.

“Maybe,” started Iwaizumi as he took his husband’s hand in his own, tracing over the golden band on his finger. “I don’t want to go to the capital; I’d be leaving my favorite person behind.” Oikawa turned back to face the mage, smiling gently. 

“I like when you’re sappy,” he said, lacing their fingers together. 

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, feigning annoyance. “Yeah, don’t get used to it.” 

A few hours had passed since the introduction and the conversation surrounding their departure had grown tenfold. The sun had shifted past noon and now began to cast afternoon shadows on the bookcases as they continued their talking. 

“You think that taking the coast will be more efficient? It’ll take almost an entire week longer,” said Daichi, explaining the route to the silver-haired mage. 

“Of course it will be slower, but here are a few more guild temples on the coast, we could convince a few more to come with us,” Suga responded.

“That’s a good point,” Daichi admitted. “Well, It looks like that’s it, we’ll be able to gather supplies as we go and navigate the ports just fine. It seems like we’re all set.” He smiled at the mage, who smiled in turn.

“Maybe we should start packing, I’ll get the apprentices ready,” said Suga, looking over to where Akaashi and Bokuto were sitting at one of the tables.

“I think one of my knights may have deafened one of your students,” Daichi said, watching Bokuto’s energetic words and mannerisms. “I apologize.”

Suga laughed: “They’re like a bunch of kids aren’t they?” Daichi grinned with him, nodding his head in agreement. He watched as the mage made his way over to the tables, retrieving Akaashi before going to find wherever Kenma had disappeared off to. Copying Suga, Daichi made his way around the study, finding and rounding up his men as well.

Once he found them, he sat down at one of the tables, letting himself rest. Unbeknownst to him, there was more talking to be done. Iwaizumi, who had managed to disentangle himself from a reluctant Oikawa, had started towards the group at the table. He pulled out a chair, leaving one open for Oikawa, who took his place beside him once more as they seated themselves at the table.

“I don’t believe we’ve entirely met,” Iwaizumi said to the knights. “I’m Iwaizumi, Tooru’s husband and Mage of the Northwoods.”

“Two very prestigious titles,” said Kuroo, grinning. Iwaizumi smiled shyly in response. 

“I’m Daichi,” said the dark-haired man. “My friend Kuroo isn’t a great one with first impressions, I’m afraid. Bokuto isn’t either,” he said, motioning to the yellow-eyed man at his side. “But they’re alright I guess. So is Kyoutani here, but he’s a bit more reserved than the other two idiots.”

“I see,” said Iwaizumi. “Tooru’s told me stories about all of you, but I never thought I’d get the chance to meet you.”

“What kind of stories,” Bokuto asked suspiciously. 

“All of the worst ones,” replied Oikawa mischievously.

“Far from it, actually,” interjected Iwaizumi. “It was on our journey to the village, I believe, that I learned the most about you all.”

“Interesting,” muttered Bokuto. 

“How so?” asked Iwaizumii, frowning a bit.

“Well, you know about us, why don't we know anything about you?”

“Hmm, I guess you’re right. Although, I’m not sure that there’s a lot that’s interesting about me,” explained Iwaizumi.

“I mean, you managed to marry a prince. I’d say that’s fairly interesting,” said Kuroo.

“Well, I wasn’t always entirely aware of that, especially not when we met,” Iwaizumi replied.

“Oh yeah, about that. How did you guys meet?” asked Kuroo. Most of the details of their relationship had been obscured ever since it was brought up.

“I got lost in the woods and subsequently attacked by some bandits. Luckily,” Oikawa pointed at his husband. “He was there to save the day.”

“And then he followed me home like a stalker. The rest is history,” Iwaizumi said, smiling.

“How cute,” muttered Kyoutani. As he finished his sentence, the doors to the study swung open, causing all at the table to redirect their attention to the silver-haired mage walking into the room. 

“We’re packed,” announced Suga. Daichi glanced up to the domed roof overhead, seeing the sun hanging in the sky, judging the time. 

“If we leave now,” he said, turning to his men. “I believe we can make it to the next town by dusk.” He stood from the table, joined by his men who rose in unison. Both Oikawa and Iwaiuzmi stood as well, smiling at the group.

“We’ll come and see you off then.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun had dropped a bit lower in the sky, its rays casting shimmering light on the bright white exterior of the temple. In the late afternoon, the pillars of the plaza seemed more golden, warmer than they had just a few hours prior. It gave the place an ethereal quality, though they supposed that it had something to do with the magic harbored there as well.

The walk down the center of the plaza wasn’t particularly long or strenuous, but it seemed to last days. As the knights trudged on towards the gate, they were followed by the mages and in turn, Oikawa and Iwaizumi. Their steps seemed to grow heavier as they made their way to the horses. They untied them in silence and watched as more horses were led up, the guards giving the reins to the other three that were accompanying them.

Daichi turned his head slowly, drawing his attention away from his horse to look at Oikawa. He opened his mouth but closed it as Oikawa took a breath and stepped forward. He reached for something, pulling a sword from beneath his cloak. Brandishing the weapon by the blade, he thrust it out, letting the pommel face the knight in front of him.

“I think this belongs to you,” he said softly, a pained smile tracing its way across his lips. “It’s done me well and I can’t possibly find the right words to thank you enough for lending it to me.” Daichi sucked in a short breath, recognizing the sword as his father’s: the one that he’d given to Oikawa before his departure from the palace.

“Oikawa, you- I can’t-”

“Please, just take it,” he said quietly. The broken, quivering tone of his voice permeated the air around them, sending a shiver down each of their spines. “Please don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.” Oikawa’s eyes met Daichi’s own. The prince’s normally clear, brown eyes were replaced with swollen, reddened ones. Daichi watched as he took his lip between his teeth in an attempt to stifle any further words or sounds.

“You gave it to me as something to remember you by, and I thank you for that. I was scared then, I was terrified that I’d lose myself and possibly my best friends too,” he smiled for a moment as he paused. “But I don’t need any sword or trinket to remember any of you by. After everything we’ve been through, I don’t really think it possible to forget you; I pray you think the same of me.” It was silent after that, allowing Oikawa’s words to sink in.

“Damn,” said Bokuto. “We’re really gonna do this again?” He had tears in his eyes as he let the reins drop from his hands, making his way over to the prince. 

Kuroo joined him, wiping his eyes briefly before starting to walk in Oikawa’s direction. “Just like last time…” Oikawa barely had any time to react before he was embraced by both knights, who let their tears flow freely. They each looked up briefly, letting their eyes wander over to stare at Daichi, silently requesting his presence. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward, joining the other three in the hug, their arms tangling around each other as they desperately tried to hold on. 

It was beautifully nostalgic, sending them back to the palace stables where they had done the same in the dark of midnight. Except there was something different about it now, as they stood in a foreign land, embracing in some unfamiliar building surrounded by strangers. This time, there were no sobs, no sharp cries or violent, unsteady gulps for air. Instead, there were softly shaking breaths, quiet sniffs paired with sliding droplets that raced down their cheeks before soaking into the fabric. And though the same sorrow was present, a sense of peace resided there as well. 

Unlike the similar moment years ago, there was a sense of certainty. There also lingered a moment of hope that this time, the goodbye was not intended to be final. Far more open-ended than the last, it was filled with possibilities. And so, as they gripped their shoulders tightly, they shared a short moment of tranquility, of bittersweet contentment.

They pulled away reluctantly, using their hands to brush away stray tears that stained their faces. Between them, there was a shared smile. It was pained, laced with minuscule regrets, questions, and fear. However, as each of their eyes crinkled, the uncertainty of it all seemed to fade away. 

“I promise I’ll stay alive this time,” said Oikawa, laughing wistfully as he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. 

“I thought you didn’t make any promises,” said Daichi, joining Oikawa with a sorrowful smile. He watched as Oikawa stepped back, reaching for the hand of the mage that stood next to him. He pulled up their hands, which were linked together, showing their matching rings that shone just a bit more brightly in the late-day sun.

“I’ve made one good promise so far,” he said, looking down at the rings. “I think I can spare one more.” 

“So this is it?” asked Bokuto. They all shared one last smile, and though each was just barely laced with a tinge of sadness, they were overwhelmingly imbued with a bit of optimism. No, this wouldn’t be it. This wasn’t the finale, it was just a temporary goodbye; simply an end to just one of the many chapters in each of their lives. And so as they mounted and set off, their smiles continued, never once-breaking as they walked on, their story still continuing and ever-changing. They supposed it wasn’t such a bad farewell after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading you guys. This entire story was so fun to write and I'm glad that I was able to share it with others. You have no idea how happy your comments and kudos make me, thank you so much to anyone who took the time to read. Have a great day! :)


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